Blue Jeans
by sweetPixiesmile
Summary: What happens when you have everything you ever planned to have and wanted: the spouse, the house, the kids and the cars... and then the love of your life waltzes in? Inspired by "Blue Jeans" by Jessie James. Dromance.
1. Blue Jeans  Lyrics

**Blue Jeans**  
_by Jessie James_

I hang in my blue jeans  
I swing in my blue jeans  
I'm representing Georgia so I twang in my  
Who likes my blue jeans?  
You like my blue jeans, especially when I wear my cowboy boots with my

I, I'm so fly  
I got a fresh new pair they're so tight  
I, I'm so fly  
I got a fresh new pair they're so tight

I got a brand new pair of blue jeans  
Just me and my posse lookin' fresh and so clean  
And baby I'm rockin' until the early morning  
Givin' my sugar one sweet performance hey hey  
Don't matter what ya wearin' hey hey  
Its about the way you wear it hey hey  
Don't matter what ya wearin' hey hey  
Its about the way ya wear it

I step in my blue Jeans  
Homewreck in my blue jeans  
I got it from my momma so im blessed in my  
I sing in my blue jeans  
Bling in my blue jeans  
When I hit the country club I get in free with my

Ohh I'm like Woahh  
I got a fresh new pair they're so dope  
Ohh I'm like Woahh  
I got a fresh new pair they're so dope

I got a brand new pair of blue jeans  
Just me and my posse lookin' fresh and so clean  
And baby I'm rockin' until the early morning  
Givin' my sugar one sweet performance hey hey  
Don't matter what ya wearin' hey hey  
Its about the way you wear it hey hey  
Don't matter what ya wearin' hey hey  
Its about the way ya wear it

Ya'll ready for this? (zip)  
Hey! Hey! Hey!  
When I bend and snap  
When I step and clap  
Everybody ask who who is that?  
When I'm out in public  
Everybody loves em I know what they wonderin'

When I bend and snap  
When I step and clap  
Everybody ask who who is that?  
When I'm out in public  
Everybody loves em I know what they wonderin'

I look rich in my blue jeans  
Slap an OW in my blue jeans  
Boys lookin' as I rock my hips in my  
I tease in my blue jeans  
I squeeze in my blue jeans  
And when I blow up I'm getting free pairs of

I got a brand new pair of blue jeans  
Just me and my posse lookin' fresh and so clean  
And baby I'm rockin' until the early morning  
Givin' my sugar one sweet performance hey hey  
Don't matter what ya wearin' hey hey  
Its about the way you wear it hey hey  
Don't matter what ya wearin' hey hey  
Its about the way ya wear it


	2. Prologue

A/N: This has actually been on my brain for a while now but discussion with a particular someone kicked it into high gear. You know who you are!

Kim Possible and all related characters © Disney

Blue Jeans © Jessie James

Song: Copy and paste this to the end of the youtube web address "/watch?v=sW2MpQ3Xab0"

- KP -- KP -- KP -- KP -- KP -- KP -- KP -- KP -- KP -- KP -

**Blue Jeans**  
_by sweetPixiesmile_

**Prologue**

I'm a firm believer in planning. Every thing I ever did was planned.

I studied my butt off to get into the right high school, which got me into my university of choice.

I worked odd jobs, weekdays and weekends, which let me get the degree I wanted.

I slaved for winkled old professors with their hippie, geek ideals and their self-serving sentiments, and got into the professional degree I aimed for.

I fielded an endless mob of headhunters and was able to choose the position at the facility I had pinpointed for the beginning of my career.

I met the right someone, and got married.

Now, I have the suburban home, the three car garage, the three kids.

I'm the recognized top of my field.

Don't get me wrong; I've worked hard to get what I have. Long nights at the office, work taken home. I've missed martial arts tournaments, soccer and cheer practises. But I also have talent to spare.

One day, I was out having lunch with some colleagues, a few of whom began bemoaning the passing of our youth. When I agreed with the hardships of life in general they looked back at me and said, "What do you mean? You got everything you've ever wanted!"

Driving home that day after a number of unexpected delays, late that night, I took the time to think about that. I have a significant other that loves me and supported me in everything I do. I have an amazingly gifted daughter who saves the world on a regular basis. I have twin sons who are scientific geniuses. Everything is as it should be. It couldn't be more perfectly perfect, it was just as I'd planned.

There had been times where I struggled with an elusively vague discontent, a niggling, gnawing at the corner of your eye. Like a Heisen-bug, every time I look at the problem directly, everything looks perfect, seems perfect. So perfect that I wonder if there's something wrong with me. I mean, I'm not getting any younger. How could I be having my mid-life crisis now?

No. No. I've got everything I ever wanted, and more. I put that out of my mind as I pulled into the driveway.

And then they hired _her_.


	3. Chapter One: Blue Jeans

A/N: I hope this isn't boring. I mean there's no martial arts, no real emo or plot moments.. well, I hope you enjoy it.

Kim Possible and all related characters © Disney

Blue Jeans © Jessie James

Song: Copy and paste this to the end of the youtube web address "/watch?v=sW2MpQ3Xab0"

- KP -- KP -- KP -- KP -- KP -- KP -- KP -- KP -- KP -- KP -

**Blue Jeans**  
_by sweetPixiesmile_

As if I didn't have anything else to do, I was asked politely by Dr. Wang to greet our newest head of robotics. Mind you, this was not quite in my field of expertise... but as the chair of the Middleton Space Center Welcoming Committee, it was well within the parameters of my duties to approach each new employee, give them the tour while pointing out the idiosyncrasies of others to help them adjust and acclimate themselves to their close colleagues, and provide tips on local cuisine and points of interest. As if they didn't have a clue. I suppose they thought that even if these people were hired for their obsession with inanimate objects and applied scientific theory, the human touch was needed to make them feel at home in the midst of their demesne.

Thus, I found myself, after another all-nighter, walking slowly to the Robotics Department. I paused at the office that preceded the secured and sterilized lab section, glancing over the bare desk that had been prepared for our new arrival. No purse, no jacket, no shoes. Not in, I supposed. I skirted the rest of the labs, walking along the outside hallway that looked out over the fog shrouded, dew covered front lawn of the Center as I headed over to Dr. Wang's office.

Alice, Wanda's administrative assistant, was at her desk, twirling a lock of her brown hair. The tight curls were certainly alluring enough around her heart shaped face, but she tended to put on a little too much make-up. Where she had the money for an Armani jacket and skirt or her Prada shoes was beyond me; perhaps she was being paid more than I'd thought... but then, she did have a Ph. D. like the rest of the Center.

"Hi Alice," I said, smiling.

"Oh!" She jumped slightly. "Oh, you startled me, Dr. Possible!" She fanned herself with delicately painted and manicured hands.

"Sorry, Alice," I glanced at the papers on her desk. I recognized the green colour coded forms. "Looking over the budget requests already? I thought the interviews weren't until The Eosphorus was ready for launch?"

"You know Dr. Wang! She always wants them early so she can line up the government or corporate sponsors. Did you need to see her?"

"Please and thank you."

Alice was a single mother. Although she'd finished her degree from Yale, her social acumen wasn't quite the same level as her ability to understand pure physics; she'd had a bad string of boyfriends since joining the Center four years ago. She pressed the intercom button on her phone. After a single tone, a brisk, business-like voice answered.

"Yes?"

"Dr. Possible was wondering if you had a moment?"

"Yes, I have a few moments before the board meeting."

"Alright," Alice turned to me with a smile. "You can go in."

"Thanks Alice."

I opened the left side of the large oak double doors and walked in.

Wanda Wang was chairman of the board and the head of the Center. I still recalled the first time we met. I'd been quite nervous, given her position, but she turned out to be a charming, if shrewd, mother of four. She was in her customary DKNY jacket, plum today, ivory blouse and black pencil skirt. She never wore earrings, but always wore her engagement ring, made from her very first project, or so she said. The rock was big enough to put out your eye. She looked up from her computer screen as I entered.

"Dr. Wang," I greeted her

"Dr. Possible," she returned my smile. "No lab coat today?"

"No, I left it in my office."

"So you must be seeing our latest acquisition in robotics?"

"I popped by but the good doctor wasn't in."

"Well, she's on flex, so she might be in soon. She's been here before; I believe your daughter may have had a hand in recruiting her the first time?" Wanda shuffled the files a bit, picking up a page here, placing it there, in a complex pattern.

"I suppose she did, but then, Kimmie's always been in and out of here." The same forms that Alice had been looking at were being placed neatly inside a folder. "Budget approvals already?" I quirked an eyebrow. Wanda laughed.

"Isn't it always?" We chuckled together. She followed that with a sigh. "The Board of Governors are looking to weather the current financial fall-out by either getting more corporate sponsorship or generating more practical services that can be sold. We're already designing and fitting as many satellites, probes and payload delivery vehicles as we can... but orders are down." She shrugged. "There's going to be some unhappy people in a couple of months."

"Not aeronautics?" I asked.

"Wouldn't you like to know," she grinned. I sighed dramatically. Wanda stood up and glanced at the display on her phone. "Anyway, I better get going," she said as she put the folders into a light leather briefcase.

"And I'll go see if our new head of robotics is here."

"Dr. Possible."

"Dr. Wang."

I stopped at the door as she put a laptop into her case.

"Don't forget, we've got a cookout this Saturday."

"I RSVP'd you already?" she glanced up briefly.

"Six, right?"

"Yep, the whole Wang clan with be there."

"Good."

"Should I bring anything?"

"Just your appetites. Have fun with the Governors." Wanda crinkled her nose at me and I laughed on my way out.

"Bye, Alice. I like your shoes." Nice embroidery, and a snake skin heel, if a little high. This was a Space Center, not the red light district.

"Thanks, Doctor."

I strolled leisurely down the wide, high ceiling hallways, completely unaware of what was about to happen. The desk in the Robotics office now had a reinforced white leather riding jacket with sparkling pink trim hanging from the chair, the back stitched with shimmering pink wings that ran up the sleeves. I shook my head with a wry smile at the "Street Siren" stencilled in all the feathers. Armoured riding boots were placed neatly beside the desk; a pair of matching riding gloves nestled inside a street helmet with atavistic pink and silver designs. A small pink and cream tote sat on the chair, a "Biker Chick" logo on a corner. I could already hear the the hissing of the pneumatic tools and the high pitched whine of the drill as I walked up the the laboratory doors. The doors slid open and I walked in. The tables were strewn with all sorts of mechanical devices, gears and struts. A drafting table had impressively large and complex schematics.

Hearing the drill again, I walked to the assembly bay in the back.

My mouth dropped at the sight before me.

A large tracked robot was in the middle of the room, illuminated from several angles. The dome-top hatch was wide open, a light hanging from the sub frame. But it wasn't the sophisticated mechanical marvel that I was staring at.

Legs hanging out of the central hatch was the most astounding specimen of womanhood I had ever seen. Blood was roaring in my ears at the sight of such posterior perfection, clad in dark blue denim. There was a complicated stitching that vaguely reminded me of horns, but served to accentuate the heavenly shape before me. Extended below were a pair of shapely thighs and sculpted calves and slim ankles that ended with a pair of comfortable leather loafers. Of what I could see of the torso shifting and twisting inside the robot, just above the waist line was a coloured tattoo of a Chinese character inside an intricately wrought flaming heart. Several pairs of wings, furled and opened, framed the heart.

I wasn't sure how long I stood there for, gaping at the lovely vision before me, my mind reeling at the sight.

_Omigawd. Get a grip. What the heck was that? _I shook my head. _I've seen this before. This is no big, right?_

I cleared my throat as loudly as I dared, but the whine of the drill drowned out my feeble attempt. A second try amounted to nothing.

"Dr. Porter!" I called out. The drill stopped and the tush paused in mid flex.

_Good gawd._

Ever so slowly, Venus rising from the sea, a perfectly toned back emerged, complete with a very short cropped lavender tube top, followed by a long shapely neck crowned with a powder blue tight fitting sports skull cap. Blond tresses flowed like molten gold, and as the perfect head turned towards me, it revealed a spunky nose, wide, generous, plump lips with an adorable mole just below the lips on the left. A pair of magnifying goggles veiled the eyes, but a finely toned arm rose and the gloved hand lifted the dark green ocular device to reveal eyes as achingly lovely as the clear morning sky.

I drew in a small gasp as those large eyes widened even more and the lips slowly, sensually lilted upwards in a blessed smile. The blue eyes flashed, leaving me breathless.

"Dr. Possible!" She slid sinuously down from her perched position, twisting and landing on her feet. Her landing jostled the drill in her hand and she fumbled it, juggling it between two grasping hands, bending over to seize it with both hands before it struck the ground. A light blush dusted her features as she looked up, grinning sheepishly. "Oops," was all she said.

I nearly fainted, the blood thundering in my ears.

"Dr. Porter," I replied, trying to muster a friendly smile and ignoring the rushing flame of my pulse. She glided forward to stand close by. I could feel the heat radiating off her bare skin. It burned a searing line through me. "It's so good to see you again."

"Yeah," she replied softly, breathlessly. "Yeah. I've been so looking forward to coming back." She paused, her eyes on mine, just for a minute fraction of a second.

It felt like a whole lifetime had passed by.

"You're the welcome waggon?" she teased.

"Rolling right in. As the Chair of the MSC Welcoming Committee-" I began to lift my right hand, but she stuck out her left for a handshake first. Dumbly, I switched hands. "I officially welcome you to the MSC family." Her grip was firm, her fingers slightly calloused from working with machines. Her eyes flicked down to my hand. A sudden jolt tingled down my spine as I realized what she was looking at.

"I, uh,..." I stumbled, revelling in the touch of her soft, cool hands. I thought I should pull away from that wonderful grip, but I didn't.

She said nothing, looking into my eyes.

"No, I, uh..." I hadn't been tongue-tied stupid for a long time. It was mortifying and yet erotic to be again. I blinked, then drew in a deep breath to continue, "-left it in my office. Not safe to wear for work and... and... well you know." I giggled nervously.

_Brilliant. Just, great there. Now I'm giggling._

I slowly withdrew my hand, feeling the pads of her fingers sliding down my palm and away.

_What's wrong with me?_

"If you have time now, I can take you on the tour, but you look-"

"Oh, I'm not busy," she said hastily, putting the drill back onto a hook that suspended from the ceiling. "Let me just get my... uh... lab coat."

I felt a flash of disappointment, quickly suppressed and lead the way out of the lab. She opened a stowaway that sat on her chair and put on a specially tailored lab coat that did nothing to hide her curves.

"The last time you were here was... two years ago, right?" I asked.

"Yup. I was only here two months before I got snapped up by NASA."

"I better give you the full tour then. There's been quite a few changes since the Lowardian Invasion. Are you sure you have time? This may take a while."

"Yeah? Great, let's go!" Then she blushed, realizing what she'd just said. "Uh, I mean, no, I don't have anything pressing right now..."

"Alright, let me take you around then." I turned, willing my own blush to go away.

The tour just seemed to whizz by. I showed her the aerodynamics lab first. The astrophysics lab followed, along with the cybernetics lab. We spent a bit of time in the special projects lab, where her work would eventually end up.

I introduced her to all the staff in each department. Many of them shook her hand as they stared at her chest. Or her waist. Or that luscious denim hugging posterior. It just... irked me. And the more it happened, the increasingly irked I became.

I stomped into the cafeteria with Vivian in tow. Granted, I'm not always so... emotional. But something about how those departmental heads just completely objectified her got my back up. When we sat, I just closed my eyes and let out a groan of frustration.

"It's okay, Doc," she said with an amused smile.

"It's _not_ okay," I huffed. "How can you stand those... those..."

"Men?" she supplied.

"Yes! Just, just ogling your... your..."

"Assets?" I nodded, too furious to speak. She shrugged. "I've gotten used to it. That's one reason I got involved in the MSC. Because as much as they look, they don't try to touch and they aren't surprised when someone like me opens their mouth and something other than Valley Girl or Super Model comes out; they take what I say seriously." She paused for a moment, pushing some of the fettuccine alfredo around on her plate. "That's one of the reasons why I came back."

"It's just so-... so..." I closed my eyes against the feelings that welled up. What did this brilliant woman had to go through? I grew up being called things like pencil necked geek, or four eyes or ironing board. What had beauty brought her that she would be fine with this sort of treatment?

"Hey... hey." A cool slim hand grasped my own. "It's okay, it's alright." I opened my eyes, feeling a little prickle at the corner of my eyes. Vivian was staring at me with a oddly serious face. Then she smiled and everything was right again. "I'm glad that you... uh, I mean," she stopped, flushing slightly. "Don't take it too seriously. A lot of men like to stare, and it sometimes makes me feel good. But if they forget the brain behind this face," she paused and grinned evilly, "they better watch out!"

I laughed and Vivian grinned back at me. I took a bite of food.

"So, why did you come back to the MSC anyway? NASA is the big time, what with the lunar base plans coming up for third reading." She flicked her eyes up at me from her plate, then looked away.

"I wanted to come back here. It's a great little town, with great people."

"Better than the Cape?" I teased. She turned back to me with that odd, disconcertingly serious face.

"Definitely," she breathed, her bright blue eyes sparkling mischievously. I laughed, with a strange squirrelly feeling inside me, and after a moment, Vivian did as well. "So how did you get put in charge of official greeter? I mean, you're not even... uh, you know..."

"Oh, well, Wand-" I stopped, catching myself. "I mean, Dr. Wang, she likes everyone calling each other doctor to level the playing field, FYI, well, she and I have become fairly good friends in the last couple of years. She was over for a cook out and she just asked me. I thought about it for a while and I figured, why not? MSC is such a revolving door, it was only right to have someone who knew the area quite well and had a firm tie to the Center to help out."

"I guess that makes sense." She pushed around a few noodles on her plate. "Then could you help me out? I need to get some stuff for my apartment, but I don't know where to go."

"I'd love to. I know a few places around that has great bargains, but you'll have to drive."

"All I've got is my motorcycle, but I've got a spare helmet..."

"I've never been on one before..." I looked down. What had my overtired brain gotten myself into? "Sure, let's do it!" Vivian's face lit up. She gathered up her tray and we took them over to the drop off table. I could feel the eyes of the others in the cafeteria following us.

"Cool. Do you have a jacket?" Her question drew me back from my embarrassed thoughts.

"Uh... no."

"That's alright, we're not running the slab so you can wear mine."

"Slab?"

"Sorry, biker babe talk," she laughed. "I mean the Interstate."

Ten minutes found me extremely self consciously wearing Vivian's white and pink leather jacket beside an aggressive, sparkling cream and white motorcycle. Four chrome tail pipes with detailed, etched scroll-work swept out of the engine bracketing a comfortable if precarious looking single piece of pink leather. The front looked like a beak of a falcon. Vivian had simply strapped on a pair of cream coloured chaps with lavender tassels. She had an ivory linen scarf and an off white pair of old style aviation goggles.

"Nice bike," I smiled. "Just keep it away from my sons."

"Why? They like Ducatis?"

"Not exactly. They're into major customizations, and always forget to ask for permission." Her laughter sprinkled the air with merriment. She pulled her hair back and slid on her clear visor helmet.

"Here's your brain bucket," she said, handing me an open faced, black helmet and the goggles. As I tried it on and adjusted the strap, she turned to the bike pulled out a stylized cylinder on either side of the chrome. She beckoned me over.

"Sit here," she said, pointed to the back of the leather padded seat. "Feet here," she pointed at the cylinders.

"Alright," I said nervously as she swung onto the motorcycle. She held the bike steady as I climbed gingerly on behind her. I perched there, flustered like a teen on a first date, when she turned and firmly grasped my wrists. I squeaked as she hauled me close, pressing me tight against her smooth, soft skin. She wrapped my arms around her slim waist.

I was glad that she couldn't see my burning face.

"Gotta hold tight, Doc, or you'll fall off." I nodded, not trusting my voice.

She started the engine and a deep throbbing hum filled the air. There were only minute vibrations that even let me know that the engine was on. She slowly backed out of her spot.

"Which way?" I looked up and pointed carefully.

"Go out the parking lot over there and turn right. That's the main road in this area; it'll take us to where we need to go. Just follow it."

"I'll take it slow, so you get used to it," she called back.

"Okay. I'm ready."

The bike rolled forwards smoothly and we turned out onto the main street. My heart pounded as the bike started to move at a decent rate. We were being passed, so I knew we couldn't have been travelling fast; it just seemed fast, with the pavement flying by so close to us. Vivian tapped my hand and I realized that I must have been gripping her a little too tightly. I forced myself to loosen my grip. But after a while, I began to relax and enjoy the ride. It was fun!

"Faster?" she asked me.

"Go for it!" I said with a grin.

"Okay. Hold on!" I tightened my grip, locking my arms around her, trying to ignore the beautifully sensual feel of her back. The acceleration was smooth, and soon, we were passing most of the cars. The wind roared passed us and the sky was high and blue, not a cloud in the sky. Suddenly, I felt like we were flying. Just the two of us, soaring along the road. An odd feeling settled around me, something I couldn't quite place. Something good.

"What do you need?" I asked her.

"What?"

"What do you need?" I shouted.

"Lean closer!" she shook her head. "I can't hear you!"

Blushing furiously, I pressed up close and put my lips near her ear.

"What do you need?"

"Furniture, a bed, mattresses. Some kitchen things, plates, cutlery, pots and pans!"

"All that today?" We wove past a large utility vehicle.

"Dr. Wang gave me a moving expense card!"

"Really? How much on account?"

"Fifteen!"

I whistled.

"Wow, she doesn't normally... turn left at the next lights... give that to anyone! But then, knowing your work, I'd say you're worth every penny!"

"Thanks!" she laughed, her ears turning a light pink.

"I know where to go. Keep going!"

We hit a small home furnishing outlet. I knew most of the vendors by name and Vivian watched with wide, amused eyes as I joked and worked the sales people. Vivian bought a microfiber couch set, a king sized bed that came with a box spring and mattress and a large screen, three dimensional flat-panel television. At another store, she bought a nice set of Swiss pots and pans, a set of elegant cutlery. For two, I noted. We arranged for all the delivery trucks to arrive on the same day.

By the time we'd finished, it was nearly four o'clock.

"Thanks for helping me out," she said, smiling guilelessly as we walked slowly to he motorcycle. "I owe you."

"Oh, no, it's okay," I protested. "You don't have to."

"Oh, so you do this for all the new employees?" she teased. My face grew hot as I realized that we'd just spent the entire day together.

"Uh... no, I don't, but still..."

"At least let me get you a drink or something." She leaned against her bike. I was suddenly struck by the delightfully sensual picture of her, in her almost bandeau style tube crop, and her tight fitting blue jeans and chaps, leaning against her custom machine.

"Uh... sorry, what?" I said when I realized I'd missed what she'd said. Her lips quirked in amusement.

"How about some Steerbucks? My treat." I sighed in defeat, then grinned.

"Sure. Coffee sounds good about now."

We drank, chatting and leaning on her bike. After finishing our caffeine fix, we donned out helmets and I climbed back aboard her motorcycle. I slid onto the back and put my arms around her. I could feel her muscles jump.

"Sorry. Did I pinch you?" I asked, concerned.

"Uh... No... the leather's a bit cool is all." I could see the goosebumps prickling her perfect skin, her ears pinking. She started the bike.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

The ride back to the Space Center was quieter. We rode in a comfortable silence, flying along the ground. The warmth of her back was soothing, the ride serene. My eyelids were getting heavy.

The next thing I knew, I was lying on my back, my head resting against a pleasant warmness. I opened my eyes. Above me was a molten halo of hair framing a beautiful face that watched me with serious eyes. Her skin was gold tinged and a suddenly painful longing struck me.

"What happened?" I said groggily, attempting with all my will power to keep my heavy, gritty eyes open.

Those plump luscious lips smiled gently.

"You feel asleep on the bike. I had to stop or you would have fallen off. Then I couldn't wake you." I sat up, stretched and looked around, desperate to stay away from that welcoming warmth. Her bike was sitting in a small parking lot near us. We were under a tall, gnarled old tree, under the setting sun... the setting sun?

"Oh no! I was supposed to be home making supper! What time is it?"

"Uh, nine?"

"Shit!" Vivian blinked, then grinned. I blushed again. "Pardon my French, but I have to go! I left my cell in my car!"

"Don't worry, I called the Center and told them you'd fallen asleep. I think Dr. Wang told me that she'd call your family." She put her hands on my shoulders. "It's okay, they know." I just stared at her for a moment, the boiling guilt and consternation subsiding under her steady gaze, then nodded.

"Thanks. Thanks, I really appreciate it. I should head home." I sat there for another moment, gathering my frayed nerves. I stood up and staggered, suddenly disoriented. Suddenly warm slim arms wrapped around me and steadied me.

"I'm sorry, it's my fault," she said as she helped me to her motorcycle. "It was my fault, I shouldn't have asked you to come with me."

"No, I should have told you I'd just done an all-nighter," I said as I jammed on the helmet.

We arrived back at the Center just as the sun set. She turned on her running lights. Suddenly, an aura of lavender erupted around her. The rims, the undercarriage of the engine and the scroll-work on the tailpipes lit up in a magnificent display of inlaid fibre optics. Even the ends of the tailpipes had lavender rings inside that flashed as she braked, flipping up her kickstand.

"Say, we're having a cookout this Saturday, are you free? A number of the department heads will be there."

"This Saturday? Sure. My calendar's pretty empty right now," she grinned up at me as I handed back her jacket. There must have been a black light on the back fin of the seat. A glowing image overlaid the stitchwork that read "Bitch in the Night".

"Come around 11 in the morning and just bring your appetite," I laughed. Vivian, once again in her leather jacket, cut a svelte form as she turned out onto he street. She slowed, waving jauntily, then leaned over her bike and raced away.

On the way home, I thought about what I would say to my family, then wondered why I felt the need to apologize or make excuses. I rolled the day over in my mind, and was drawn back to the feeling, sitting on Vivian's motorcycle, with my arms wrapped around that warm inviting body, the ground flying beneath us and my head full of the clear blue sky when it hit me. I finally recognized the feeling, something that I hadn't felt, if I was willing to admit it, for a long, long time. It was a sense of rightness, a settling of the heart into a contentment that I hadn't even realized I'd been missing.

I had puzzled out the feeling. I'd figured it out, and it scared me.


	4. Chapter Two: Hang

A/N:

Kim Possible and all related characters © Disney

Disclaimer: This is written purely for the love of writing, the enjoyment of others, and not for profit.

- KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP -

**Blue Jeans**  
**Chapter Two: Hang**  
_by sweetPixiesmile_

What happens when you've inadvertently invited the single greatest threat to your existence to a friends and family barbecue? You experience a hellish heaven. It was probably the most embarrassing and excruciating cookout I'd ever had the pleasure to host.

When Vivian pulled up, fashionably late, in her sleek, pearl and pink Ducati, my mouth ran dry at the deep purple, thin strapped, loose cotton mid-riff baring tank and the long legs that taunted me, sweeping out in a tight low riding True Religion stretchable black jeans which sparkled as she moved in the bright sunlight. I avoided her as much as I could, although as the host I needed to mingle and make sure all my guests had enough to eat, to drink, or people to connect to. The entire day, I attempted to spread my time around, to keep my eyes off her. I felt as light as a feather, as stressed as a taut wire. I suppose that was unnecessary, since every eye was on her, either out of lust, envy or jealousy. She cut an oblivious swathe through the men and chatted amicably with the ladies. Each time she was near, I broke into a sweat that I blamed on the weather, the sunlight, the heat of the barbecue, anything that came to mind. When she took off her leather chestnut brown FCUK bolero jacket, I nearly swooned in appreciation. The entire back was bare, except for a complicated lacing that hung loosely. The twins stared, too taken by the sight to do little else. I turned around, gathering the plates and headed inside.

She finally cornered me in the kitchen as I was washing and putting away the afternoon plates.

"Hey Doc," she grinned as she leaned against the counter. I kept my eyes on her face, even though I desperately wanted to allow them to wander.

"Vivian, I do have a name, you know," I huffed. Her grin widened.

"Yeah, I know," she paused. "Doc." I rolled my eyes theatrically. She looked down at my busy hands. "Do you always do the dishes?"

I put away the last plate and turned to stare into her blue eyes.

"Someone has to," I said, breathlessly, trying to get my racing pulse under control. "It's so bad for hands though." I opened a cupboard by the sink and pulled out some moisturizing cream.

I could feel my resolve slipping away as I under those limpid pools of sky. Whatever she saw, she smiled and sat at my kitchen table, gazing at me with half-lidded eyes. I must have blushed at the sight, because she gave herself a self-satisfied smile. I turned around, cursing myself as I filled two glasses of filtered water, pulled two paper covered straws from a drawer, and went to sit across from her.

"You have a really nice family," she said, accepting the water as I pushed the glass and a straw across the table to her.

"Thank you."

"Do you throw these parties a lot?"

"No, not really. Well, maybe once a month. Wanda wanted a place outside of work for colleagues to mingle."

"You do a lot of things for Wanda," she noted wryly. I nodded.

"I first met her in college, but we were never close. A friend of a friend, something like that. The next time I saw her, she was marrying a family friend! How weird is that? Anyway, when she and John divorced, she left Rio di Janeiro and joined the MSC, what was that, just a year and a half ago? She was hired on as the Board Chair. Now she's here with her four kids, all boys."

"Four?" Vivian whistled. "How'd she manage to do that and keep her career moving?"

"She's always been very ambitious," I shrugged. I took a sip of water before continuing. "I heard you did an undergrad at Georgia Tech? Are you from there?"

"Savannah, Georgia," she volunteered.

"Really? I don't hear a twang."

"An' you ain't gonna," she drawled. We shared a laugh. "No, I found that you put the drawl together with my looks and everyone thinks you're Bambi the Bimbo. I used to open my mouth in class and guys would be, like, 'wow, did you memorize all that?'" She shook her head. "It was even worse in the Sororities, they thrived on that kind of manipulation. Not to say, I'm above a little," she gave me a heavy-lidded smoldering stare, forcing me to repress a shiver as she continued, "gentle persuasion... but I wanted my brains to be the subject, not my boobs or my butt. So I just never joined the whole frat life and kept to myself. Not to say I didn't party or have fun, but it was hard to stay close with people. Guys always thought I was looking for some action even when I was just standing there, and girls were always jealous." She paused for a moment. "I didn't see Kim today. Is she...?"

"She's going to college in New York. She was supposed to be here, but called in saying she was on a mission."

"So she's still doing the save the world thing?"

"Yes. She's taking Criminal Justice, English and Teacher's College. And that's on top of her martial arts competitions and cheerleading."

"Wow, that's a lot."

"She seems to be enjoying herself."

"She must be very fit. I mean to have all that energy."

"I think sometimes that's how she sees her missions, as training. For what, I don't know."

"I remember she looked pretty good when I first met her. Does she even sleep?"

"Have you heard 'The Motto'?" I sighed.

"Anything's possible for a Possible? Yeah," she shrugged, "but from what I've seen, I'd say it's pretty true." She glanced at me then looked down. "How about you? How do you stay in such great shape?" I blushed at the compliment.

"I run, do yoga and Pilates. A bit of Tai Chi. I go to a Latin dance class every Tuesday and Thursday." I sighed again. "I'd probably be in better shape if I didn't like to eat so much."

"Are you kidding? Uh, I mean, you look fabul- er..." Vivian flushed, her sweet tan deepening to an adorable bronze. "You look great."

"Coming from you, that's quite the compliment." She stared at me for a moment before I realized what I'd said. My face grew so heated, I thought I'd faint. " I- I...I mean, because, you know, you're so beautiful and,.. ah-" I swallowed nervously. "You know what I mean!" I protested. She grinned at me.

"Yeah," she said with a dawning realization. "I think I do." I had the uncertain feeling that she completely saw through my blatant attempt to cover-up my slip.

"So..." I searched desperately to change the subject. "Have you been riding for long?"

"Ever since I was old enough. My daddy had a fifty acre farm an hours drive out of Savannah and Heinsville. First time on a bike, I was twelve. It was one of the hand's dirt bikes. He was a real pain to my daddy; always causing trouble and such. He was young too, now that I think about it, maybe sixteen? He was a runaway, I heard, and daddy took him on 'cause he felt sorry for him. Anyway, one day, I snuck into the worker's dorm, took his keys and went for a joyride around the farm. I still remember the feeling. Before that, all I'd ridden was my ten-speed and on the back of my daddy's ATV, always hauling one thing or another. Well, I drove by the orchard they were harvesting and boy, was Herschle livid!" Vivian smiled, her eyes distant with memory. I found myself entranced.

"So... what happened?"

"Got a hiding from my daddy, of course. A twelve year old girl sneaking into the male hand's dorm? My momma's tongue was worse than my daddy's bite though," she laughed, then shuddered. "That woman could strip tree bark for miles if she wanted to."

"I can just picture it, you riding around that boy in circles, him chasing you," I laughed. "Did he get worse?"

"No, we became best friends," she laughed. "He calmed down a bit, and daddy took to shining his shotgun every time he was over for supper." We shared another chuckle.

"Were the two of you... close?"

"We were best buds, is all. I think he thought we could be more, but I was more interested in machines."

"Well, how did you end up in Savannah?"

"A couple of bad crop years, and a big Texas corporation came knocking, looking to buy up the all the small private orchards. Daddy was getting old and he knew my heart wasn't in the farm; I was always getting in trouble, grease under my fingernails, and rebuilding his machinery. They offered him a position as a cultivation expert. Daddy was top grosser for the smaller farms for ten years running before the drought. The regional office was in Savannah, so that's where we ended up." She sipped at her straw. "So, enough about me! What about you?" I flushed at her expectant eyes.

"Not much really. I was a Navy brat. We were in Germany for a while, Hawaii, Middle-East, and eventually Japan before we settled down..."

"Your parents were in the forces? So... you must know some pretty good moves then."

"Moves? I suppose..." I must have looked dubious enough that Vivian smiled encouragingly at me. I felt a fluttery feeling in my chest at the sight of her tilted lips.

"Maybe you can show them to me sometime?"

"Sure," I said, before I realized what I'd just said. Vivian's grin widened and as mortified as I was, I felt a deep stirring pulse inside of me... there I sat, pinioned by that devilish grin, and sky blue eyes...

Wanda wandered in from the patio. Her eyes flicked between my embarrassed self and Vivian's grinning face. I wanted to just jump out of my chair and run for it.

"Hi, Dr. Wang," I said instead.

"Dr. Possible," Wanda smiled, then turned a slight frown on Vivian. "Dr. Porter. Enjoying yourself?"

"Oh yes, immensely," she said, winking at me without batting an eye. I was sure that Wanda hadn't caught the wink, but I was about to turn into a puddle of aroused shame and guilt. Was Vivian really coming on to me? Here I was, in my own home, surrounded by friends and guests and family, and eating it up. The guilt was crushing; the excitement was just as powerful. I couldn't decide if I was being tantalizingly tortured in a hellish Heaven, or a heavenly Hell. My eyesight wavered for a moment, before I put my mental foot down.

_Get a grip!_ I screamed at myself.

"Dr. Wang, Dr. Porter mentioned her time at Georgia Tech," I neatly deflected. "Doesn't your eldest attend Georgia Tech?"

Wanda's eyes narrowed at me slightly, but her face and voice didn't change.

"Why yes, he does."

"If you'll excuse me, I need to check the cooler..." I said smoothly, standing up, gesturing for Wanda to join Vivian. There was a flash of disappointment in Vivian's face and a glare of suspicion in Wanda's. But I couldn't help it, I needed to get away. I forced myself not to rush out onto the patio and to ignore the look of determination on Vivian's face.

I avoided her the rest of the day.

Vivian lagged behind the guests as they filed out into the late afternoon air. When the last guest had stepped out, she shrugged into her jacket and stopped in front of me with that sweet, alluring smile.

"Thanks for having me over, Doc," she said, clasping my hand. She surreptitiously glanced about before chastely giving me a farewell peck on the cheek.

My face burned hotly as she leaned back and she smiled at her handiwork.

"You sure know how to show a girl a good time," she quipped breathlessly before sauntering out of the house with a sway. I stood there for a moment, my fingertips touching my cheek, sure that the impression of her lips wrote traitor all over my face. My heart thudded in delicious excitement. The rest of the day, I felt that any moment, I would be accused of infidelity. I yearned and ached at the same time.

I actively, consciously avoided Vivian as much as I could after that. I declined any invitation that had even the most remote possibility that I would end up in a social situation with her. The weekly luncheon. Friday night drinks. The lunch room.

And I was successful. At least in avoiding her. But calming my overheated mind was another thing. I was... intrigued, I'll admit. Who wouldn't be? But there was too much to lose. Why take the risk? And since my higher functions shut down every time she was near, I had to avoid adrenalin spiking around her at all costs, which meant staying away. But each time I caught a glimpse of her and turned away, the quick flash of disappointment was like a hot knife slicing into me, and I had to fight the urge to turn around and... and what?

A few weeks and I felt almost normal.

Until the phone in my office rang.

"Dr. Possible."

"Dr. Wang, what a pleasant surprise!" I put down my stylus and touch screen tablet.

"I noticed you didn't sign up to help out with the Rocket Boosters this year."

"Nice to hear from you too."

"Sorry, I have a meeting with the Homeland people in twenty. But to the point. We need you."

"I was thinking of taking a break this year..."

"Budget cuts. We didn't get enough volunteers, since most of them are working to make ends meet. We can't even afford to hire summer staff to handle the children; that's already gone into the administration and advertisement for the camps. You've helped out almost every year. Why stop now?"

"How did you- nevermind," I sighed. "Who've you got helping?"

"Dr. Soong, Dr. Haagen and Dr. Freeman." No Dr. Porter? Well, I'd always done the boosters. It was certainly fun to see children and youths learning,eager to learn. Kim and Ron had attended every year until they were twelve, when Kim started taking missions that ranged from baby sitting to rescuing cats out of trees to saving the life of a very rich billionaire in Upperton from a security laser grid mishap. I still preferred the Booster days, and seeing people who still saw learning as fun.

"Alright, I'll help out. Would I be taking the juniors or the seniors this year?"

"Seniors. The Juniors we can handle with what few volunteers we did get, but we need someone with a softer touch for the teens."

"Alright. You can count on me, Doctor Wang."

"Thanks, Dr. Possible."

I cleared my schedule for Rocket Booster Camp week.

The teens in my group were good. There were the jokesters and the snobs, but most were united with a desire to absorb as much as they could in order to boost either their grades or help them find a field that they might be interested in when they applied to university.

"I'm really looking forward to the Artificial Intelligence seminars and workgroups," exclaimed Vinh, a short, chubby, Vietnamese American.

"I heard Dr. Freeman lives in a house full of appliances that he built himself! And that the BMW and Mercedes self-park systems were written by him," answered Gloria, a skinny, bespectacled Asian girl with straight, waist-length hair.

"Introduction to Artificial Intelligence. I hope it's more than forking statements or case tables," murmured Ngosi, a muscular black boy.

We reached the A.I. Lab, where a series of workstations were arranged in a circular fashion surrounding a tall pedestal. The students picked their desks as I closed the door.

"Welcome, everyone!" The voice laid itself like a warm, comforting hand over my shoulder.

"Whoa. You are _definitely_ not Dr. Freeman," said Gloria. I turned to see Vivian emerging from the back office. I instantly recalled a song, something about how light attaches to a suddenly special someone... She was wearing her customary tube top and tight silver Seven for All Mankind skinnies under her fitted lab coat. She looked fabulous. If she had been wearing Manolos, I think I would have passed out.

"No," Vivian smiled from the centre of the lab. "Dr. Freeman had a personal emergency and asked me to take over the class for the week." Her sky blue eyes danced as they connected with mine. "Dr. Possible," she smiled.

"Dr. Porter," I said, gratified that my voice didn't sound as strangled as I thought it would. "What happened to Dr. Freeman?"

"Unfortunately, it appears that Dr. Freeman's toaster is on suicide watch, so he's asked me to take over for this week," she grinned as she leaned closer, conspiratorially.

"His... toaster?" asked Alvin, a thin, tall black boy with a very large afro.

"On suicide watch?" Vinh added.

"Yes," Vivian turned to the settling teens. "Apparently, the appliances didn't take kindly to Dr. Freeman switching fridges. I told them it was still the same Fridge, but they were having a bit of an existential crisis. Now, let's start with my name. I'm Dr. Vivian Frances Porter."

"Not _the_ V.F. Porter?" Ngosi suddenly interrupted excitedly. "The one who built the self preserving remote probe for the Jupiter Project?" The other students murmured in appreciation. Vivian blushed slightly.

"That's the name I publish under, yes."

I was watching her gorgeous mouth move and I honestly found it difficult to focus on what she was saying, but the class clung to her words raptly. As it turned out, the Artificial Intelligence Lab at the Centre was equipped with a program testing environment, where staff and students could test their ideas and interact with a construct that would use their logic trees. The interface would manifest on the central pedestal where students and staff could verbally interact with their programs.

"You have to realize that artificial intelligence is half philosophy, half science, and all very very loopy. Are humans the template for what we call intelligence? Can intelligence be artificially created? Should artificial intelligence mimic human intelligence, as flawed and undefined as that truly is? What is intelligence? Is the only way to measure intelligence by focusing on problem solving? And taking it a step further, does spontaneity have a place?"

As the class went on, my fears seemed to wash away in the presence of this amazing, blond woman, who's versatile mind seemed only matched by her physical beauty. I knew why I was afraid of her. I knew I should be afraid of her. But this drive to know her, to relate to her was shaking the foundations of who I thought I was. Of who I thought I ought to be. The things I wanted or had attained seemed to pale in comparison to connecting with Vivian. Why would I be willing to sacrifice everything I'd ever wanted for this woman? Admittedly, I'd felt the tug of attraction the first time we'd met, but when she left and joined NASA, I dismissed it. But now, it seemed that she was here to stay.

I jumped as the end of session chime sounded.

"I know the homework is all very philosophical, but trust me. Your idea of intelligence is just as valid as anyone else's, but knowing what you think intelligence is will help focus and improve your work. We'll see you tomorrow."

I stood and cleared my throat for attention.

"Now's time for lunch. Those of you who have packed your lunch, please feel free to use the cafeteria. You should have the location on the map provided in your orientation package. For those of you leaving the Centre for lunch, meet back in the cafeteria at one thirty." The students began packing their things away, chattering merrily.

"Doc?" Vivian said behind me. "Are you doing anything? Care to join me for lunch?" I turned to see her standing next to me. Behind her was an eager Ngosi, waiting to speak to her. The light scent of her perfume overwhelmed me.

"I... sure," I heard myself saying before my brain kicked back into gear. I silently cursed myself even as I felt like dancing. "Why... don't we meet at the cafeteria?"

"Okay. I'll be there in a moment," she said, nodding, then turned to the waiting youth.

I walked as if in a dream to the cafeteria. I was absorbed in a strange nervous euphoria that even my darker thoughts couldn't seem to penetrate. I should have said no. It felt so right, but I should have said no, I berated myself, even as I congratulated the opportunist lunch invitation acceptance.

_I'm not interested, I'm just helping a new employee, and, possibly, new friend, out_, I told myself, ignoring the bubbly feeling deep inside me. As I ordered some fettuccine alfredo from the marchè and settled into a small window-side table, I considered my position now. How had I allowed her to simply take control of my faculties with just a smile and a sigh? This was so anomalous, I just simply couldn't wrap my mind around it. I was gleefully skipping into a minefield, without any feeling of control and it was... dreadfully exhilarating.

Was part of the thrill simply the high risk, forbidden nature of my attraction? Was it because she was so different, or so perfect? I'll admit, I didn't marry for love, although there was a deep, underlying fondness. Passion certainly had no place in my decision for a spouse. I married for compatibility, for genetics, for companionship.

And now, I was cast adrift in a mysterious ocean of some undefinable emotion. An uncontrollable desire. A surprising infatuation, a fascination, a longing for her presence. And each time, the reaction was stronger, more prolonged...

I needed to stay away from her... but how could I? When the slightest gesture filled me with a tremulous shiver of tortured delight, a rush that ran in molten rivulets of ecstasy from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet? And after almost twenty years of marriage, three children and a soaring career... Was I willing to risk losing it because of this person?

This sensual, perfection of beauty and grace? This paragon of womanhood, whose voluptuous magnificence was only matched by her keen intellect? Her honey gold skin, her eyes of sky blue with silver flecks, her solid yet imminently feminine figure, the graceful arc of her neck, the fantastically symmetrical-

"Doc?" I nearly jumped out of my skin. Vivian stood beside me with a tray in her hands. She tilted her head slightly in amusement. "Should I leave you to your thoughts?"

"I-... no, no,... please," I stammered, sure that my face must be burning a bright red from embarrassment. "I was... just thinking."

"Naughty thoughts, I hope?" she teased, as she sat across from me, crossing her legs daintily. "Thinking is overrated unless it's about something devilish." I was completely mortified; my pulse was rushing blood to all the visible extremities, leaving my mind starved and mired in a sweet torture of my own choosing.

I couldn't recall when my thoughts had waxed so eloquently, only to be thoroughly derailed... perhaps ever.

"That's a bunch of great kids you've got," she said, taking a bite from her own pasta, tortellini in a rose sauce.

"They are very eager, aren't they," I gave a strained smile. "Most of them are considering a career in engineering. So how did you get stuck with teaching?"

"Freeman and I go way back, from like... ten years ago. He'd recently transferred in to my grade ten class, and we got stuck together for a science fair project. Before that, he thought I was pretentious; I thought he was a stuck-up girly man. The short of it was we became fast friends when I showed an aptitude he didn't expect. We built a very simple machine that could scoop and serve ice cream to a verbal order. Of course, we lost to a chemical volcano. Could you imagine? A blue eyed blond and a black boy taking first in a prep school in Georgia? Anyway, we kept in touch with each other, helping each other with problems, me helping him with his appliances, him with my A.I."

"So, his toaster...?"

"Oh, she's just a bit melodramatic," Vivian waved her hand dismissively. "We'd installed the working core of the old refrigerator into the new model, but Dr. Freeman had forgotten to tell the rest of his appliances. We worked on it all night in the basement, testing and retesting everything before bringing it up in the middle of the night. So imagine when one of your best friends is wheeled away some time in the night, and is replaced by someone completely different? The house was in such an uproar that Freeman asked me to take the class so he could calm his blender, and that set off his toaster..." She shrugged as she took another bite. "Hey, this is really good! I need to get this recipe from the chef."

"I'm sure Archie would be more than willing to share. I'd heard some things about Freeman from Kim, like how his car was instrumental in taking down a villain..."

"Well, Ira's great with A.I. but he's a bit dense," Vivian sighed. "I can't believe he didn't tell his appliances first! The microwave and the stereo got it quick enough, but those others... sometimes I think the heat just messes up their circuit boards and destabilizes their transistor and logic matrices..." I shook my head as we shared a laugh.

She stirred her coffee for a moment, her face tense. She looked up and caught me looking; I coughed and looked away.

"Soooo..." I drew out. "You'll be doing A.I. for the rest of the week, then?"

"Looks like it, unless Freeman brings in counselling." She glanced at her watch. "I better get my ass in gear, the next session's in ten minutes." She gathered her tray and plates. "See ya tomorrow, Doc," she winked as she stood. It took me about five minutes to get myself together and go in search of my group.

"And when I got home from school, I found out my dad had gone the whole day with three broken ribs!" Vivian chuckled, shaking her head as we had lunch the next day. This time, I didn't even hesitate to accept her offer.

"And he said nothing to your mother?"

"Call it machismo or something. Herschel and I drove him to the local emergency hospital. All the way, my mama gave him a tongue-lashing that freaked us out, but daddy just rode it out, same as always."

"Your father must be very tough."

"Anything like yours?"

"No..." my face must have darkened, because Vivian looked across the table, put her fork down and put her hand on my clenched fist. I hadn't even realized I'd done that. It took a lot of effort to relax.

"It's okay, you don't have to tell me, Doc," she said, concern in her eyes.

"No, it's alright," I shook my head. "I haven't seen him for about ten years." Vivian stayed silent as I gathered my thoughts. "My parents divorced ten years ago. They were both naval officers. Both hard-headed, both very proud. But where mom was powerful and nurturing, my father was a control-freak. The last straw was when mom came home to find him beating up my older brother, who was protecting me after I accidentally broke a world series commemorative plate. He was bigger, but mom had studied advanced CQC, master level Krav Maga and some Asian arts. She put him down and kicked him out the same night. They went through some counselling, but it didn't work out. He transferred and never looked back. So mom took a training position so that she could stay put while my brother and I grew up, gave up promotions and everything. Last I heard, my father was working in the Admiralty in England as a consultant."

Why did I feel like I could tell her these things? I rarely talked about my father to anyone. You don't air your dirty laundry, that was something my mother taught me. Did I really trust her that much already?

"Your mom must've really loved you," Vivian mused.

"She's been my hero ever since I was small. Your mother would probably get along with mine."

"No way. Could you imagine, two alpha bitches in the same room? I don't think we'd survive."

"Vivian!" I chided, laughing at the image.

"Do you see your brother often?"

"Not as often as I like. Sometimes we go on a road trip to see him."

"How many calories do you think is in this?" she asked as she lifted another piece of salmon on her fork, the Dijon mustard and orange sauce dripping.

"Eighteen hundred, I think. Archie would know for sure."

We went our separate ways, her heading to the A.I. lab and myself to gather my students.

"Have you known Dr. Porter for long?" Gloria asked me the next day.

"Not really. Why do you ask?"

"You always seem to be together, so I just thought..." Gloria blushed. "Nevermind."

Thursday, at the end of class, Vivian walked up to me.

"Lunch?" I asked.

"Sorry Doc," Vivian replied. I felt an seismic undulation of disappointment swell up inside of me. "The Saturn Probe boys asked me to take a look at their software. Tomorrow, I promise."

"I'm sorry too," I said, swallowing my disgruntled dignity.

That lunch, I sat, wallowing in a profound dissatisfaction. I missed her company, her quick mind and her funny, wilful stories. My appetite shrunk in the face of her absence and I felt off the rest of the day.

Friday, we sat at our customary table.

"No, I grew up on boots," Vivian was saying. "I didn't even wear my first heels until I was going to my prom. So my closet is full of hard and soft leather boots, some short, some tall, different toes, heels. I even have a pair of Go-Go boots!"

"My father had very old fashioned ideas about gender roles. Ironic that he married my mother; she's not a butch, but she was assertive and aggressive."

"Hey, have you seen 'A Cloud to Remember?'"

"I hardly go to the movies, these days. Have you?"

"Nope. At least, not yet. I heard it had some pretty good reviews." Vivian pushed around some of her leftover coleslaw before looking me in the eye. "Hey, I'm having a painting party tomorrow in the afternoon. I was hoping you'd come."

I felt a thrill scurry up and down my spine, leaving a tingling happiness.

"Tomorrow? Saturday?" I demurred.

"Yeah. I don't really know anyone else in Middleton. I've got a friend from out of town who's going to stop by and help out. Paint, supper, movie." She leaned across the table and caught my hand in hers. "Please come. Say you'll come." The warmth I was feeling was too welcoming to ignore.

"Sure, I'll be there. What time should I arrive?"

"Two is fine. I'll be prepping all morning, so, really, you could come whenever."

"Two it is."

"Do you know where I live?"

"I remember your address from out little shopping spree."

"Great!" Vivian said as she stood, ready to leave for her after lunch session. "I'll see you there!" She hummed, tunelessly as she happily stowed her tray at the return station, pausing to look at my amused direction before departing with a wink.

It took all my willpower not to skip out of the cafeteria.

That night I could hardly sleep. I lay in bed, caught between titanic forces, torn by uncertainty and desire.

Was anything really possible for a Possible, I wondered to myself. I hadn't really questioned that before. Ever since I heard it, it never crossed my mind that it might be applied to relationships. But the problem was the near obsessive nature of my desire. That, I knew, was neither healthy nor true affection. An infatuation, that was all. But I also understood, if I didn't face this part of myself, it would never leave me alone. I turned and stared for a long, long time at the pillow beside me, empty for an all-nighter.

When I married, I never felt that tumult of emotions that everyone spoke about. It was a cold, almost impersonal thing that shocked my friends, even those I had chosen to be included in the wedding party. Physique was important, as were family members. Personal drive and devotion. Intelligence and ambition. Prospects. Those were the things that I considered as I cut a swathe through the opposite sex, looking for a person I felt comfortable enough with.

Love?

Lust?

What were they, but instinctual neurons firing, hormonal receptors that had no contextual validity, at least in my mind at the time.

Now, I wasn't so sure. Faced with a deluge of happiness and contentment and longing... I was cast adrift, and I needed to anchor my soul, find some solid foundation once again with which to rebuild my self-regard. I felt changed, transformed by these feelings I buried almost two years ago. I knew the sensible thing was to never speak to Vivian again. To avoid her like the plague, even to the extent of moving out of town.

But it was futile. It would haunt me for the rest of my life. I would always wonder about the road less travelled. Or worse, it could happen again, and I'd be just as confused and powerless to deal with the onslaught of concupiscence, if I never solved the riddle of myself. I would be running away, and it could very well happen again. I needed to face it and unravel the mystery of who I really was. I needed to peel back the layers of who I thought I was and try to discover, and yes, even come to terms with who and what I am. That, my mother taught me; to face my challenges head on, with my eyes wide open.

I resolved myself not to cancel the painting party. With that firmly in mind, I turned over and slept soundly until dawn.

All morning, I couldn't seem to focus. I looked at the empty bed without batting an eye. Made breakfast for the boys; Kim had left another note, saying she was on another mission. I frowned. She seemed to be having more missions than normal, and in more exotic locales; this time, it was on Ibiza. Lunch was a light affair of strawberry mixed green salad and a mandarin vinaigrette. I thought for a moment, then went to the fridge and pulled out a six-pack of Coronas.

I dressed myself in a pair of faded charcoal straight-leg True Religions and a tight, cherry red beater shirt. I drove out to Vivian's condo, through the bright, streaming sunshine, with the six-pack sitting beside me in a nice gift box, and my heart in my throat. Why was I nervous? I was just trying to help a friend, help her fit in, and learn about her, spend time with her.

Vivian's condo was one of the new hi-rise condos in downtown Middleton that had been completed just before the big recession. The younger, hipper generation threw themselves into the core revitalization after the invasion and the rates were still extremely affordable, but with the sluggish economy, several of the hipsters had returned to more affordable housing: living with their parents. That allowed Vivian to snap up a rather large apartment in a fashionable part of Middleton for a great price.

I checked myself in the mirrored back wall of the elevator after giving my name at the front desk. I walked down the corridor and turned right at a T-shaped junction. It was all soft downy carpet and some sound absorbent, turned wood panelling and ivory wallpaper. _Seven-oh seven... oh-five, oh-six, oh-_ I could hear the voices even before I reached Vivian's door.

"Really, can't you stay longer?" I heard Vivian's muffled plea from behind the door. I froze, indecisive about knocking and intruding on a scene.

"Sorry, Peaches, duty calls," replied a vaguely familiar voice. No, it was very familiar, but I couldn't place it.

"But... but, that means,... I-..."

"Don't get your panties all in a bunch. You should be thanking my boss-," a smug, amused voice said before Vivian interrupted with a desperate plea.

"C'mon Ari! You came down all this way and now you have to go back to Spain?"

"Look, I can't help it. When the boss calls on my personal time, I make double."

"Just a few more minutes, Ari, please?" Vivian's voice was beginning to get exasperated.

"And after all this time, you still-" The unknown woman's husky voice rose, frustration leaking into her tone before she was interrupted.

"You're going because you're going to see her, aren't you?" Vivian's words were cutting and outraged. "You're running out on me even though she doesn't-"

"Look, Georgia..." the woman protested.

"-even give you the time of day," Vivian continued on without a stop, "and for all you know is dating that dumb blond-"

"Speaking of dumb blonds," the woman tried to cut in again, but Vivian was having none of it.

"-and may be totally straight for all the two weeks that you stayed with her-"

"Now, there, you're wrong-"

"-and now you're ditching me so you can run out and make nice with your crush?"

"Vivian!" the voice finally got in. "No crush will take your place as my BFF, alright? We'll always be tight and right. But I gotta _go_; and you _know_ why."

There was a pause where I finally realized I'd held my breath somewhere along the way.

"Yeah, fine. I get it," Vivian sighed in defeat. "Just don't come back too banged up, okay? Seeing some of your welts the last time was bad enough..."

"You kidding? Not with this ass."

I suddenly realized that this was the end of the conversation. The woman was going to step out and see me standing there, knowing that I had just eavesdropped, albeit unwittingly, on a private conversation. I ran back the way I came and flew around the corner just as I heard the door unlock and open. I glanced up, noting the security mirror there, seeing my own shocked visage staring back at me distorted by the reflective surface. I desperately cast about and saw the garbage chute closet beside me. I slipped inside and held the door open a crack, trying not to inhale the putrid mix of air freshener and the pungent smell of rubbish. I could clearly see Vivian's wheat gold hair shining behind a thick full head of black wavy hair. The woman leaned forward and planted a kiss on Vivian's cheek, who blushed and playfully slapped the brunette on the shoulder. The stranger's husky laugh echoed down towards me before she headed in the opposite direction, toward the far stairwell. The retreating figure slipped silently into the door at the end of the corridor. I counted to ten, then slipped out of the putrid garbage chute closet and decided to count to thirty, trying to calm a weird twisting emotion that made me want to do something resentful and violent.

I hefted the Coronas before heading to Vivian's door and knocked firmly on the heavy dark stained oak door. The door opened to reveal Vivian in a powder blue halter top and dark baggy Citizens. She had a tool belt on with a few brushes protruding out of the pockets. The jeans where practically hanging by a thread on the tantalizing curve of her hips.

"Hey Doc," Vivian smiled, a slight blush on her cheeks. She hesitated for a moment. "Look... my friend had to cancel, so I don't know if you might wanna reschedule... actually, you just missed her on her way out."

"You have the paint, right? And the walls are primed?"

"Well, yeah..."

"Those walls aren't going to paint themselves," I said, smiling. "And I brought something for later?" I hefted the clinking bottles box. "As I recall, there's pizza with our names on them." As slow grin split her face.

"Yeah... yeah! Well, c'mon in!" She turned to lead the way in with a slight sashay and I found my eyes dropping to gaze at the T shape of her thong peeking out from the low riding denim. My mouth immediately went dry. By pure force of will and the desire not to be caught staring, I turned to close the door, noticing two pairs of slippers by the door. Two different sizes. One well worn and scuffed, the other pristine and... Louis Vuittons? I frowned. This Ari has her own slippers here? There was a comfortably large square landing just inside the door. A spiral of open, thick suspended stairs threaded up from the far side of the small foyer, beyond which was a small but cozy living room and ceiling to floor windows. It was an open concept design, with a thick curtain of glass beads covering the faint shadows of the kitchen. A wide opening on the right opened into a kitchen and breakfast area enclosed by French doors. A bathroom was just to the left. The landing had two chic chairs flanking a stylish S-curve table. My eyes were immediately drawn to her.

"Don't take off your shoes." I turned to find Vivian paused by the stairs, looking over her shoulder, looking thoroughly stunning. Plastic sheets lined the floorboards of the walls. "Want the tour? There's not really much to see, since everything sort of covered up..."

"A tour would be great. At least I'll know where we'll be painting when we talk about it."

"Alright then." She stepped back from the stairway, directly into the open concept living room. A solitary couch sat facing the left wall. A covered coffee table was right before it, with a large screen flat panel television, also covered with heavy cotton painter's sheets. A narrow table stood directly behind the couch, covered. The ceiling was a smooth eggshell white. Walking into the living room gave an unobstructed view of the kitchen and the square, bar style square table for eight and professional series stainless steel appliances.

"Not much of a tour for this floor," she smirked. "Chill room," she pointed at the television. "Exercise room," she continued pointing at a treadmill and weight bench and a stainless steel weight rack in the corner. A step board was tucked neatly under the bench, along with a neatly rolled yoga mat. "Eat room," she pointed at the kitchen.

"What's upstairs?"

"Play room." Vivian's grin was positively vivacious. I coughed, blushing. "Well, and work room," she amended.

"Same open concept?"

"Yep. Since I live by myself, there's no real need for privacy, and the private area's upstairs anyway. Here, let me put that in the fridge." She walked close and took the bottles from my hand, her fingers trailing fire along the back of my hand; I fiercely suppressed a squeak that threatened to slip out as she took the beer. I wandered over to the window that overlooked downtown Middleton.

"Wow, this is pretty exposed."

"There's blackout blinds that I can lower," she answered as she pulled open her flush-set refrigerator. "The glass is three-paned security tempered. I could walk around here naked and people wouldn't be the wiser."

A crowded mound of one gallon paint cans stood behind the dining table in the corner, each stack labelled with sticky notes. Vivian perched herself at one of the table's chairs.

"C'mon, let me show you what I want to do..."

Eight hours later found the two of us lying haphazardly on the couch. The television was on, with the promised movie playing. Vivian was sprawled on one end, I was draped over the other. Pizza and beer sat before us on her coffee table. Outside the setting sun was obscured by her privacy blinds.

"Oh my god, I didn't think painting would be that hard! I should have just rented a spray!"

The previous white walls of the living room were now a nice warm orange with a burgundy semi-dry patterns. Vivian had a number of textured sheets cut into random shapes with varying degrees of absorption. We'd put on two coats of the orange before heading upstairs. We'd be back to stick on the sheets and sponge over them. A large king-sized futon with an elaborate headboard was on the wall furthest from the windows. A two foot thick arch bisected the room in half. Pushed up against the window and closets to the stairway was a desk covered with a monitor rack of six liquid display screens and a wireless keyboard. Beside the keyboard was a pair of odd looking gloves. A set of long, low drawers lined the left wall and a door to the bathroom was on the right. Two double doors, likely closets, were set almost invisibly into the wall. On the bed was a very nice set of French lingerie, complete with bustier, garters and hose. They were laid out in a fashion that suggested how a person might look in them.

Vivian squeaked when she saw them and scrambled to snatch them up.

"Stupid, stupid... ugh, that..." Vivian's blush was a mesmerizing tableau of outrage. She shoved the scanty garments into a drawer. "Uh,... that was probably my friend, Ari. You know, the one who left just before you arrived. She's always pulling stupid pranks like this..."

"I don't know, does this Ari even exist?" I teased. "If I didn't know any better..."

"Doc!" I looked at her with a raised eyebrow. Vivian's flustered look was adorable. "Come on, I wouldn't, I mean,... _really_!"

"Oh, I'm just teasing! But I would really like to meet this mysterious Ari..."

"Ugh!" she groaned, "I am _so_ going to kill her!"

"Well, let's get dir-," I began, hefting a paint brush, thinking to change the subject and let her off the hook, then stopped realizing what I was about to say. "Painting!" I said, turning away from Vivian's pleasurably shocked face, trying to cover my slip.

_Awkward, awkward, awkward!_

I took a quick look in the en suite bathroom and noted two toothbrushes in separate mugs. I frowned again.

The pizza had arrive as we were brushing on the texture coat over the pieces of paper that we'd stuck haphazardly all over the living room wall. But that incident in the play room stayed with me and I kept looking at Vivian as she stretched and reached, stooped and sidestepped, thinking about what she would look like. Vivian nearly caught me looking once and with my heart in my throat, I resolved to try to stop thinking about it and keep my mind on task.

_Why am I staring at her butt? I'd never stared at anyone's before, ever! But now I'm completely enthralled by that perfect... STOP!_

The pizza delivery boy was sufficiently stunned when Vivian opened the door and grabbed the two boxes. The Coronas were chilled and went down smoothly, a decent compliment to the specialty pizza from the local authentic Italian, family run pizzeria. However, the painting lasted until past ten.

"I'm really glad you came. Your hands are so steady," Vivian said, looking at me. "I never would have been able to do the trim."

"_I'm_ glad I'm not working tomorrow. My hand is soooo sore!" I held it up for her to see it trembling. She sat up and slid forward. She took my hand and began to slowly knead it. I watched the look of concentration on her face, the movie playing on her television forgotten. She looked up when I was silent and smiled, then leaned forward even more as she massaged my sore digits.

"Wow, you fingers are really long!"

"I'm tall."

"You know what they say about big hands?"

"They have huge brains?"

She laughed in reply. I took a breath, thinking about this mysterious Ari.

"Vivian... I want to ask... you something." The massage stopped and she looked up at me.

"What?" She suddenly looked scared. She looked so young, but I'd already committed myself, and I wasn't going to back down. "Sounds serious."

"Are... you... and Ari... together?" My face felt flushed with embarrassment. She stared at me incredulously for several long moments. To my surprise and confusion, she burst out laughing.

"Wh-wh-... me? and Ari?" she continued to laugh.

"Well, I saw the slippers... and the toothbrushes..." Vivian laughed harder. "And you bought only two sets of every plate and utensil..."

"Oh... oh my... Oh god..." It took another few guffaws before she spoke. Even then, it was between suppressed chuckles.

"Ari and I, we grew up together. Her family lived up in Atlanta. Old family friends. They used to come visit us three, four times a year, and we'd go up now and then. In the summers we'd spend, like, a month at each others' place. Early summer in Atlanta, late summer on my farm, and eventually, Savannah. Her schedule's really wacky, and sometimes she just drops by to see how I'm doing."

"So... you aren't..."

"Together? Gawd no. Besides, she's totally crushing on... wait... why are you asking about her anyway?"

"Oh... I, uh... accidentally... heard you arguing at the door."

"Oh..." Suddenly Vivian's eyes went wide. "Oh! Ohhhhhhh..."

"I didn't mean to! I was just about to knock when I heard you asking her not to leave, and sounding all jealous about some girl in Spain..." Vivian sat up and put her hands on my shoulders. I could smell her body wash, mixed in with a strange, heady scent.

"Look, I trust you, Doc, so I'll tell you. Don't ask about Ari, please? She's with the government or something... even I don't ask. She wouldn't tell anyway, and she'd get all upset, because she doesn't want to lie to me, but she can't tell. It's for our safety, okay?"

"Of-of course, Vivian," I murmured, distracted by her close proximity. Her skin was so flawless... She stared into my eyes for a moment longer, then nodded and smiled, releasing me to my inner torment.

"Anyway, we're not like that. I just didn't want her to leave, because I didn't want you to think I'd lied and set it up for us to be alone together or something..."

"Would that have been so bad?" Vivian's blank stare made me realize what I'd just said. I looked down at my watch.

"Oh! I should be going," I said, suddenly extremely embarrassed and wanting to leave. A look of desperation wafted across her face, a stricken, sallow wave.

"Finish the movie? C'mon, stay a little longer, I could use the company."

"I... alright," I agreed.

I left after midnight, thanking her for inviting me and commenting on how fun it had been. It had been so long since I'd been out anywhere doing anything. She walked me to the elevator and the doors slid closed with a "See ya at the Centre, Doc."

As I went out to my car, I felt empty inside, as if I'd left something valuable, something precious upstairs in that condo, seven-oh-seven. I had to tear myself away. As much as I wished it, it wasn't my home and I wasn't going to be spending the night. I wondered what I would have given to spend even another minute with her, and the fear returned twice as powerful, twice as damning as before.

I drove home, the windows wide open, the music so loud it buzzed in my ears. I sung at the top of my lungs, trying to drown out my thoughts. I was afraid to answer that question, afraid what that answer might be.

What I knew it would be.


	5. Chapter Three: Swing

A/N:

Kim Possible and all related characters © Disney  
Disclaimer: This is written purely for the love of writing, the enjoyment of others, and not for profit.

- KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP -

**Blue Jeans**  
_Chapter Three: Swing  
by sweetPixiesmile_

- KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP -

Why did love have to coming knocking on the door of my heart after I've been married for over twenty years? I'm tortured by the thought that no matter what I choose, those closest around me would be hurt, and yet, just being with that single cataclysmic catalyst can take me to depths of intimacy I never thought possible without sex being involved. I began to find myself frequently running my thoughts in orbits of futility, my stylus, moving of its own accord as my mind drifted from scenario to scenario. I was eternally grateful for automatic backups, since my notes began to look like a high-schooler's doodle filled notebook.

"You're looking peppy."

I jumped from where I was sitting in the cafeteria, self-consciously closing my tablet. Wanda was standing there looking at me with narrowed eyes, her arms crossed.

"Am I? I mean, I am?" I said, trying to gather my wits. She was carrying her Middleton Space Centre mug, the one they give to all new CEOs, in one hand. In her other hand was a plate with a partially eaten, toasted bagel. Today was her black Chanel suit with silver rope trim and an elegant pencil skirt, topped with classic pearls. She sat down across from me, arranging her mug and plate with careful, precise motions before steepling her smooth fingers and staring. I fidgeted, opening my tablet and scrolling through some files on the newest arrival at the MSC. This went on for several minutes, with Wanda taking a few sips and a bite of her Montreal style bagel, careful not to smudge her lipstick. I flipped through a few pages before I couldn't take it anymore.

"Is there something I can do for you, Dr. Wang?" I wondered aloud, reading through the file. Shaska Iluvduvic... vick? vich? Thirty-seven... criminal record... mental functioning altered...

"What's going on between you and Dr. Porter?" I looked up to see Wanda's serious face. I coughed, my face reddening.

"Nothing."

"You know that there are rumours circulating." I glanced up with an arched eyebrow, a look she returned. I gave a quick look around, making sure that there was no one around. It was early in the morning, and the cafeteria was mostly empty.

"Rumours are hardly worth our time, is it?" I said airily, looking down with dismissal.

"They say that the two of you have been spending too much time together."

"We're just hanging out. She needs a friend."

"You know what they say about rumours," she riposted. I sat, silent for a moment longer.

"Dr. Porter is a brilliant scientist that's new in town. I thought I'd just help her out a little."

"Good. Because girls like that..." This time, I looked up, somewhat surprised at Wanda's husky voice. Her face was stony, but her hands were clasped tightly around her mug. Her fingers worried absently at the enormous carbuncle on her left ring finger. I put my tablet down.

"You've never told me why you and John separated..." I said gently. Wanda coughed, sniffed sharply and popped the last of her bagel into her mouth.

"You know they broke up after the divorce?" she said as she chewed. "The little shit ran off with some millionaire girly-man." She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "She wasn't blond and she wasn't smart, but of all the people she could have had, why did she have to mess up my family? I just don't want something like that happening to you."

I looked down, embarrassed, as Wanda looked at her watch.

"We'd better get going," she said, "Homeland's going to be here soon with our latest employee." Wanda scooped up her empty plate and headed for the tray drop off. I followed more slowly, my head in confusion, my heart whirling with dismay. I knew I was completely infatuated with Vivian, but... was Vivian truly interested in me? Why all the attention, all of a sudden? Yet she didn't strike me as someone insincere. Were my instincts about people that far off? Not only that, was I really willing to put my family into the hazard, as it were, for this?

"She's wearing one of the new bracelets," Wanda was saying as we walked toward the back of the Centre, "but they say she shouldn't be a problem. Her brain chemistry got flipped or something. Dr. Bortel said the effects were irreversible without the exact frequency with which her brainwaves were affected, or else it could completely disrupt her patterns and rhythms."

I looked at my tablet and pulled up the picture on file of the woman. Her hair had a metallic sheen to it, and her eyes were covered by what looked to be old welder goggles.

"Is this woman... grey?" I asked, surprised. Did Kim mention someone like this before, I wondered.

"Yes, she is. She's a brilliant electrical engineer. It's said that anything that has been made, she can make better."

"I wonder if Vivian might want to meet her," I murmured to myself. Wanda gave me a look but said nothing. We eventually arrived at the back of the building, where large trailers dropped off their deliveries. A few men were standing around, but they weren't the foreman and his crew, but wore familiar jumpsuits. One, a tall lanky fellow with light brown skin and short brown hair ceased speaking to his colleagues and intercepted us as we approached.

"Dr. Wang, Dr. Possible," he greeted us with a respectful nod.

"Agent Du," Wanda acknowledged him. "Are we on schedule?"

"Yes, the van has checked in and should be here in approximately two minutes."

"Will?" I asked, my eyes wide. "But I thought Homeland was..." I trailed off from a sharp look he sent me.

"Will? Do you know Agent Du, Dr. Possible?"

"Ah..." I hesitated. "Yes, from Kim's heroing exploits."

"That's right," Will continued smoothly, "I've had the pleasure of having her assist me on one of my missions." My eyes narrowed slightly; that was not what Kim had told me, but was in line with what she'd said about Agent Du's character.

"Is there anything we need to know before we met her?" Wanda asked.

"Well, our threat analysis has indicated that there is only one thing we need to tell you, and that a full briefing is unnecessary."

"And what's that?"

"She's unusually cheerful."

Wanda and I waited for a moment before realizing that he had said all he was going to say.

"That's it?" was Wanda's first words.

"Yes," Will affirmed.

Wanda and I exchanged a look.

"Ah, here's the van now," Will said, looking own the drive as a small cube van drove up. It pulled over and backed into the cargo gate, it's reverse alarm beeping loudly. It stopped just inches from the lip of the platform. Two agents unlocked the door. Inside were two additional agents who got up from the benches linign the sides of the back. They escorted a shorter and more curvaceous figure in a tight fitting black jumpsuit, handcuffs and shackles chained together. The woman stepped out of the van and looked around. She took a deep breath and broke into a huge grin.

"There is nothing that beats fresh, clean air, no?" she asked, brightly.

"Dr. Iluvdovic?" Will came forward and held up his hand.

"Ah, of course, Agent Du. You have but to ask!" She bent forward slightly and he waved the back of his palm behind her neck as the other agents removed her shackles and handcuffs. Wanda leaned over.

"And I thought you were peppy this morning," she whispered in my ear. I swallowed a giggle and coughed instead.

"Dr. Wang, whom you'll be reporting to, Dr. Iluvdovic," Will neatly zeroed that near manic smile on us, steering the woman in our direction.

"Ah! I have looked forward to meeting you, Dr. Wang," the woman gushed, seizing and pumping Wanda's hand enthusiastically.

"As have I, Dr. Iluvdovic," halting the woman's handshake by placing her other land on it. "I've read your papers, and I must say, I've been quite impressed, especially by the commentary by your former colleagues." Shaska released Wanda's hands.

"Ah, I am sorry if you've had t read those, Dr. Wang. I was not the easiest person to get along with, but," she shrugged, smiling cheerily, "I am a changed woman!"

"No, I mean that many women scientists are so undervalued. It was refreshing to see our less progressive male counterparts put in their places." Wanda then turned to me. "This is Dr. Possible." The woman gasped before squealing in delight. I reached out to shake her hand, but instead, she wrapped her arms around me.

"Dr. Possible! Oh! How I've longed to meet you and to tell you, your daughter is the most charming young woman! You must be very proud!"

"Uh, yes..." I said in a tightly strangled voice. Then I recalled why the grey skinned woman was familiar. "Electronique...?" Shaska pulled back, her hands on my shoulders.

"Ah! Yes. Kim has told you of the time we met, then? If she is here, I would so much like to thank her!" I gently removed her hands from my shoulders, glaring at Wanda's smugly amused gaze as she signed Will's tablet.

"No, she's not here, but I'll ask if she'd like to see you the next time she's in town," I temporized. "In the meantime, let's get you settled in your office and I'll take you on a tour.

"I get my own office? How marvellous!"

I smiled at the woman. Her enthusiasm was a little over the top, but I could forgive her that since she'd been as much a victim, even if it was of her own folly. She must have been quite aggressive and hostile before she'd been changed. She took an office in the Special Projects Department, next to some of the other application specialists, since her specialty was in collaboration. We walked about the Space Centre's campus; Shaska chattered animatedly through the entire tour, inquiring after each project's status, commiserating with the project leads' difficulties, suggesting some solutions to problems. Wanda had long abandoned us for another meeting. When we stopped at the Robotics Department, Vivian came to greet us and took in the woman with a bit of reservation. I wondered at the wariness she displayed with the woman, and the tense, tightness around her eyes. Before I could ask her about lunch, Shaska had already begun moving to the next department. I dropped a small smile for Vivian, which she returned with a dead-pan expression, if not for the slight quirk of her lips.

"It must be so nice to have such a nice family," she gushed as we left the Aeronautics Department.

"Well, Jim and Tim are in their senior year in high school right now, even though they're a couple of years younger than the others in their class. I think they're starting to find the classes boring. They really enjoy the social activities and the clubs. They play in the soccer team."

"And you mentioned Kim is away for school?"

"Yes, she's attending Berkeley's Criminology in Manhattan. I just don't know how she keeps up with her studies and still manages to save the world at least once every two weeks. And she's been called to testify at proceedings via webcam and everything. She's still maintaining a 4.0 GPA... I worry she'll burn herself out."

"Well, I'll admit my last scheme failed because I didn't strike your wonderful daughter with the augmented attitudinator, but I'm content with the way things worked out."

"Really? Even though You'll never realize your dreams of... uh..." I ground to a halt, not sure where to go with the conversation. We joined the Marché's pasta line.

"Revenge? Oh, it was all the things that people did to me, but I was soooo unhappy then. Now, I'm much more happy! Oh, is that mussels in that angel hair pasta?"

By then end of lunch, I was honestly talked into exhaustion. I bade Shaska a weary farewell, after walking with her back to her office. My mind still whirling from the woman's intensity, I wandered slowly to the front of the Centre, . I was making my way through the meeting rooms when Vivian storm around the corner, her blue eyes clouded with disappointment. Even with a scowl, she was an alluring tempest poured into a pair of black Salt Works skinnies. However, instead of her revealing crop or tube tops, she wore an open charcoal wool suit jacket held shut by an antique clasp, the soft shawl collar falling in folds atop a tight fitting cotton, collared shirt.

"Vivian!" I said, pleased and concerned. "Are you alright?" There were pale smudges under her eyes. She looked up and the tension seemed to flow away from her. She seized my hand with an unexpected swiftness.

"Doc!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"Welcoming the latest recruit," I paused. The desire to spend more time with her welled up inside me, drowning the warning alarm that had begun to shiver gut wrenching waves of confusion along my spine. A guilty thrill sung through me and I flushed. Vivian's eyes of cloudless sky stared into my own turbulent, murky ocean blues.

"I need a coffee. Come with?"

"I... uh-" I stammered, hardly able to formulate a coherent thought. "Alright, twist my rubber arm," I sighed dramatically.

"Great! Let's get my gear," her grin animated her previously exhausted face. She glanced at me sideways, here eyes travelling up and down. I flushed, pretending not to notice, ignoring the internal tumult of happiness.

"So who's the new kid on the block?" My eye were glued to the nefariously delicious connection of our clasped hands. And beyond that, the tightly stretched black skinnies...

"Oh, some ex-villainess that Kim put away once."

"What? No way!"

"I know! But apparently her brain waves have been permanently altered by some device that was destroyed when she was captured. She's out on a work permit to reduce her sentence."

"Some sort of parole shortening thing?"

"I'm not sure. The word is that anything created, she can make better."

"Hmmm, I wonder if she does home visits..."

"What for?" For a moment, she seemed startled.

"Oh, some personal project I'm working on."

"Now I'm interested." For some odd reason, Vivian seemed embarrassed.

"It's a pet project I've been working on or about two years now. I didn't think you'd be intere-"

"Of course I would. I've got more than one field under my belt. Two years? Now I'm really curious!" Vivian was silent the rest of the way to her office. I felt a sudden stab of fear. Had I angered her somehow?

"Are you sure you're alright?" I asked as we arrived at her office, still worried.

"Just need some fresh air," was her reply.

She threw off her jacket, revealing a tight, bustier panelled had folded collar cotton shirt with slightly puffed shoulders. and snatched up her helmet and gloves, then slid out of her short leather pumps and into her armoured riding boots. A few minutes later found us pulling out of the Centre's parking lot. I leaned against her smooth, warm back, my arms wrapped possessively around her slim waist, breathing directions into the soft shell of her ear to a small family run café nearby.

We purchased our drinks as the matriarch of the family came out to scold me for not coming more often. I was released only after promising to bring the family the next time, and we took a shaded table outside on the patio. Vivian sat down heavily and propped her feet up on the small round table.

"Wow, did I ever need that," Vivian sighed after downing an espresso like a whiskey shot, setting down the small paper cup beside her mocha. She ground the heels of her hands into her eyes and leaned back.

"Why so tired?" I asked, nursing my latte. Vivian stretched sinuously, one hand high up, the other curling around behind her head.

"Um...? Oh..." she paused, considering. "Well,... I..." she gave me a piercing stare. "Don't mention this to anyone, alright? You have to promise me. Not to anyone."

"Of course," I said under a sudden blossoming of curiosity and a warm gratification at her trust.

"It's Ari." My heart lurched, a painful shudder suddenly sliding icy fingers, choking the warmth. Was she going to tell me that they were together? "She has a... crush. A serious one, a secret one, someone she meets a lot." A tingling tide of relief washed through me, and I smiled encouragingly at her. "Remember how she got called away before you arrived for the painting party?" I nodded, but Vivian suddenly stopped, staring into my eyes, as if suddenly recalling something. "Uh... maybe I shouldn't say anything..."

"Oh, no you don't. You got me interested. You can't stop now," I protested. "You might as well tell me. I assume she saw her crush with someone?" Vivian continued to stare as her eyes searched mine; what she was looking for, I didn't know.

"Yeah," she finally said, looking down and swirling her mocha. "She called me in the middle of the night, all crying and desperate, and hurt. It wasn't pretty. That was three nights ago." I blinked.

"Don't tell me," I said, incredulously, "she's called you every night since?"

"She's on the job, so she can't show too much of what's going on with her," Vivian explained. "We've been friends for a long time; and she needs someone to talk to. It's probably why I'm so ticked off, ugh!"

"Ticked off?" Why was I having so much trouble keeping track of the conversation?

"Budget day," she intoned, giving me a mysterious and ominous stare. We shared chuckle as she swung her legs down and she leaned forward conspiratorially.

"How did it go? Did your projects get approved with the right funding?"

"Well,... yeah..." she paused, but her eyes refilled with bothered disappointment.

"Alright. What happened?" I demanded. She glanced about and I followed suit. "Don't worry, there's no Centre people here right now."

"Okay," she sighed. She leaned even closer. "The same old shit, is what happened. Wand- I mean, Dr. Wang endorsed two of my three projects."

"And proposals have to be presented the Board... so today was your presentation?"

"Yep. I walked into the boardroom in my shirt and jacket-,"

"Very nice crepe jacket, by the way."

"Thanks. A custom job. Anyway, the presentation started well. I began the introduction, I turned around to point out a few things on the screen, and when I turned back, what did I find?"

"Their eyes were lower than they should have been?" Vivian put her head down on the table with a groan of frustration.

"Yes! I mean, I worked damned hard on that presentation, on those figures and numbers! My colleagues were taking me seriously and even helping with some of the crunching. I went in expecting the same thing. And what did I get?" She threw her hands up in a theatrical display of anger. "The T 'n A rubber stamp committee! The old boys club slapping me in the face with my own assets! I mean, really, okay, so their mostly old dick jockeys, but seriously, have some sense of professionalism here, I mean we're talking million dollar projects, and all they could do was stare at my ass?"

I looked into her adorably scornful face, the smooth, supple skin a perfect scowl of irritation. My eyes zeroed in on her sparkling lip gloss that flashed yellow gold specks on very wet looking, plump, juicy, chewable...

"Doc?" My eyes snapped up in mortification to stare, wide eyed into a wry, amused smirk.

"I-I-I-" I stammered. I could feel my cheeks burning with consternation. Here she was, telling me how frustrated she was with the old boys network approving her hard fought proposals because of her looks, and here I was, practically doing the same thing! "I'm sorry, Vivian! I just kind of zoned out."

"And just what were you zoning out on, Dr. Possible?" I looked down, away from the sultry sound of her voice, seeing even the backs of my hands a deep, even flush of utter embarrassment.

"Just-," I took a deep breath to settle the swirling chaos inside me, "just thinking about Ari's problem."

"Oh? Any thoughts?"

"Well, I was thinking that she's at a disadvantage, right now. That her crush is already involved. So she's got a limited number of options. She could give up, she could wait and see, or she could steal him."

"Her."

"Her-... what?"

"Ari's a lesbian. Has been for years."

"I, okay," I blinked. "Oh, well, it doesn't make a difference. I suppose they could share, if they were inclined..." my cooling face flushed slightly at that. "My only experience with lesbians are from the movies."

"No," Vivian nestled her chin in a fist, the elbow propped up on the table. "Ari's not one to share. She's pretty possessive; doesn't play well with others."

"Then she either needs to step up her involvement with her crush or get out of the way. If she really wants this person, she needs to fight for hi-, I mean, her." I leaned back, organizing my thoughts. "I mean, or else, how will she know if she ever had a chance? And if it's as serious as it sounds, she'll always regret not even trying." Vivian stared at me for long enough before I ducked my head in embarrassment and took a sip of my latte.

"What?" I asked. Vivian blinked and took a swig her coffee.

"It's the same advice as what I've given her all these years is all."

"She's been crushing for that long?"

"Yeah. Happens."

"To you too?" I teased.

"Yeah," she said, eyeing me speculatively. "You?"

"Great minds, then," I quipped and was rewarded by a laugh from her. The next few sips were taken in contemplative silence. I pondered the advice I'd just given to Ari, a woman I'd not even met. Was I a hypocrite? It was my turn to sigh, and I did it with gusto.

"What? What's wrong?" Vivian asked.

"Well, you know remember I've been taking dance lessons?"

"Yeah. Tuesdays and Thursdays, right?"

"Right," I replied. I could still recall the heated conversation over the phone from this morning, before I arrived at the Centre. "Well, the other Dr. Possible couldn't make it to class Thursday night. An 'emergency'," I said sarcastically, making quotation finger wiggles, "and it's the graduation class, before the summer break. We've had the schedule for months, and now..." I stopped with a huff.

Vivian watched me carefully, her eyes inscrutable.

"I'm kinda mad about- no, I'm really angry about it. I mean I know work is busy and all, but we'd planned it for a long time! I mean, the dancing is my thing,-"

"Wait... you've been going by yourself?" she asked, incredulously. I sighed again and looked up into the sky. The surge of bitterness and disappointment was a dull moan at the back of my mind.

"Yes, for the last year or so. I mean, we'd talked about doing something together, and we did go the first few times, but since then..."

"You got ditched."

"Yes! And I'm still upset about that; I was kinda ticked. I've had to dance with the instructor or with others, but, you know, it just wasn't the same."

"What about Wanda?"

"What about her?"

"Why don't you ask her to go with you to this graduation thing?"

"I suppose you've never had a chance to see Wanda on the dance floor."

"That bad?"

"Like Carrie, but without the pig's blood."

"Not to sound dumb, but 'ew'." She made an adorably disgusted face.

"Yes, very 'ew'," I smiled in return.

"Well, then," Vivian licked her lips before continuing, "wanna go with me?" I stared at her for a moment.

"I-, what, really?"

"Sure. I was pretty good back in high school. Daddy'd always been in good standing, and from good Southern stock. We had all these cotillions, little débutante balls. I loved those, 'cause-" Vivian stopped suddenly, her face flushing as she coughed with embarrassment. "Anyway, I don't have two left feet."

"I..." I looked away, the top of my scalp beginning to tingle with sparks of excitement. I turned back to her. "Are you sure? What would people think? "

"What do you mean?"

"Wanda told me there are rumours going around about the two of us."

"Why," she shrugged, "does it bother you that people are talking about us?"

"I just don't want to cause trouble for you at work or anything," I nervously fumbled with a napkin. "I mean-"

"Don't be silly, Doc," she smiled, her shining eyes twinkling with wicked amusement. "Besides," she said airily as she leaned back in her chair, "I'm used to being the centre of attention." I stared at her, dumbfounded, before I caught her lazy smile twitching, her eyes wide and innocent. Giggles finally forced their way out of my tightly compressed lips, her own laughter following mine, spiralling up into the bright summer sky.

"Well, dancing is rather strenuous, and you keep yourself in such great shape..." she said as our hilarity ran its course. Her eyes looked down, shifting back and forth as she considered, before a bright smile lit her face. "Yeah, totally, I'm good. It'll be fun, just the two of us." I smiled, gripping my mug tightly to keep my hands from trembling, my legs stiff from repressing the urge to jump up and dance right then and there.

"Alright. I'll pick you up at six? It's dinner and dancing, Latin style, and a flamenco presentation."

"You had me at 'pig's blood'. Six is good."

"So very 'ew'," I replied and we both laughed.

- KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP -

By the time I got home, I was regretting my spontaneous acceptance of bringing Vivian to the graduation dance. I put my keys in the foyer table drawer, put my shoes in the closet and put on my house slippers, a nice pair of open toe breathable leather customs from a local cordwainer who bought their leather direct from Italy. I heard the clink of tableware in the kitchen and crossed the hall, past the sunken living room on the right and into the large kitchen that we'd installed. The house was much changed since the invasion, and on a senior engineer and leading surgeon combined income, plus insurance, we were able to build the dream home I'd always wanted. Seated at the small rectangular kitchen table was a familiar red head. She turned her head at my arrival and stood up.

"Kim! You're finally home!" I strode over and we hugged. She was wearing a neat, tight collared shirt with tiny, tuxedo style ruffles down the front and dark, slightly flared jeans. True to form, she wore no jewellery except for her Kimmunicator watch. She smelled of shampoo and moisturizer.

"I'm glad I'm back," she smiled. I drew back.

"Let me look at you," I said, happy to see her. There were dark smudges under her eyes. On the table beside her, was a steaming cup of coffee, a very strong cup by the smell of it. "Have you been getting enough sleep, Kimmie-cub?" Her lips quirked. I flushed. "Sorry... Kim. It's so hard to remember, you know, after calling you that for so long."

"It actually didn't feel awkweird to hear you call me that," she said, smiling an shaking her head. "Wanna cup? I just brewed it."

I glanced at the clock.

"No, I've just had some Steerbucks. Let me brew some tea and we can talk." I quickly picked out a bag of vanilla cream from a tin in a cupboard. It was a memento from a small tea shop from Niagara-on-the-Lake over the border in Canada. Hot steaming water from an charcoal baked electrical thermal pot from Japan filled the mug. Kim sat watching me from behind the three speckled glass lights that hung down from the ceiling over the table.

"Wow, I never thought I'd miss just watching you putter around the house," she mused.

"Not much puttering these days, Kimmie. Busy busy, all the time now." I pulled out a container of evaporated milk and a small plastic bottle of granulated sugar cane sugar and brought everything to the table on a tray.

"How are things at school?" I began with something safe as I sat beside her. My intuition told me there was something different going on with her.

"Busy," she replied.

"Must be," I said, nodding at her steaming mug. "You never used to drink coffee. And certainly not black."

"Oh," she said sheepishly. "I... guess I kinda got used to it. You know college students and their coffee." Kim used to hate coffee. She'd said it was too bitter; she'd stick to her carbonated sugared drinks if given the choice.

"Tell me the truth, young lady," I said. "We don't want a repeat of Halloween, do we?" She rolled her eyes and then laughed.

"Alright, fine. I've been short on sleep a couple of times and needed something to keep me awake. Coffee is cheap, accessible and if I'm tired enough, I don't bounce off the walls." She shrugged. "I tried the ginseng you suggested but the taste was just too 'yuck'."

"Kim, you looked fine a few days ago before you took that mission to Ibiza," I warned her. She was just not very good at dissembling.

"No... yeah, you're right."

"That's what you get for having doctors for parental units. So spill."

"I-... well,... uh-..." her face flushed as she floundered. "The mission wasn't quite what I'd expected. I mean, there was a mission," she added hastily. "Drakken was trying to do something to the local music to control Mediterranean fish stocks."

"That mission was three days ago, Kimberly Anne Possible-" I suddenly ground to a halt. "I'm sorry Kim. I haven't seen you for more than thirty minutes and here I am lecturing you. It's just hard not seeing you as my little girl. You know you can talk to me. You can tell me anything." Kim's silence was as telltale as a trail of cookie crumbs. I stirred my tea and sipped, waiting patiently for her to decide whether or not to say anything. Eventually she stirred.

"Okay." She took a deep breath through her nose and let it go slowly through pursed lips. "I'm dating someone."

"You are? That-... uh, that's great Kim." I paused for a moment. "It's not Ronald, is it?"

"No, that's totally over since after high school grad. Besides, he's at the California Culinary College, and he spends all his time cooking. We keep in touch over Wade's communicators." She took a sip of coffee.

"Someone in New York, then?"

"Yep."

"I'd like to meet this beau of yours," I said. She looked away without answering. "Something is wrong, isn't it, Kim."

"I-" she stopped. "I'm not sure. Yet. Anyway, my... boyfriend... showed up after the mission; I didn't expect it, it was a huge surprise! I'd told him about where we were headed... but... I... sometimes, I get the feeling that he's hiding something from me. I just can't figure out what. Am I just being paranoid?"

"I don't know, Kim. You've always had pretty good intuition about people... but if you're in a relationship with this person, you should trust him." I felt terrible. I was giving my daughter advice about honesty, and yet I was about to go on what amounted to a date with someone I wasn't married to, while I was still married. What would Kim say if she knew? "Anyway, just trust him."

"Well, I'm not really sure how I feel about it. Maybe after Erik, I just sort of... I dunno. But about our relationship. I mean I don't know how I feel about h-him, so I didn't want to say anything yet. Because I'm sure if it's serious or not."

"Take your time and don't rush into anything you might regret later." I raised my eyebrows significantly and she blushed a dark crimson red, at which I laughed.

"I got it, I got it," she said as her laughter joined mine, raising her hands in surrender. "Anyway, I'm going to be heading out tonight with some of the girls from the cheer squad for dinner and a movie."

"Set some time aside for us too Kimmie, okay?"

"I know, I will. I gotta go get ready."

Kim was out the door in less than fifteen minutes. She'd always been a decisive girl in everything except love. And it didn't take a genius to know something was off with her. The next twenty-four hours was a blur of anxiety, guilt and excitement, including all the preparation for the dance graduation party. I wondered about who Kim was seeing and how long she'd been sexually active. I trembled at the thought of going out on a date with Vivian, such a young, appealing and attractive woman. I burned at the sparkling rush of pleasure that excitement gave me.

There was no peace in this. None at all. It was that bitter-sweet uncertainty, the ambition of emotion that flooded my mind, and the desire to know her, experience her, that swept away the terror filled imaginings of the looks of betrayal that my family would throw against me if they knew.

- KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP -

"Doc? Doc! Anyone home?"

I shivered at the sound of her voice as I stood, my lips parted slightly, stunned by the vision of blond perfection that stood in the glass and steel front entrance of her condo. She wore a midnight blue suede dress with a sparkling silver stitchwork and sequins that molded her torso tightly beneath the thick banded halter straps. The back was bare nearly down to her tail bone. The hem was long on her left side, but cut up in a sharp diagonal to nearly her hip on the right side. Her hair was pinned up an elaborate upturned braid, cascading in golden curls down from the crown of her head. A dark blue flower was pinned high up. Small rhinestone pins sparkled from the curls.

"You... you look amazing," I breathed, still stunned by the vision before me. She blushed adorably and I fought the urge to wrap my arms around her. Her eyes travelled down, then back up to gaze into my own.

"I love the look," she smiled. I was wearing a suit tailored after the Spanish toreador traje de luces, but with some differences. Gone were the white collared shirt, flamboyant tassells, high tasselled socks, short pants and the short neck tie. They were replaced with a silk ivory shirt with a ruffled collar under a stiff, silver trimmed bolero jacket, and tight fitting, silver pin striped pans that flared slightly at the bottom.

"Well, it's Latin," I said, flushing as her eyes travelled downward again, "a-and, I'm, you know, taller..." I cleared my throat. "Shall we?" I swept a hand down the corridor to the elevators. She nodded, bu as I turned, a sharp sting jolted me, and I yelped. I turned around, my face flushing a deep red, my hand down protecting my throbbing cheek, to face a mischievous grin.

"Vivian!"

"Sorry, Doc," she said as a smug smile spread across her lips, "I couldn't resist." I flushed with delighted outrage, as she grabbed onto my arm and we walked to the elevator.

"You really look cool," she said, as the elevator doors opened.

"No more than your loveliness," I riposted.

"Have you ever been to Spain, then?"

"We visited once. Mother was doing some dive training for the Special Operations Unit in Barcelona one summer and just brought us along. My father had been deployed to Vietnam, aboard the New Jersey, I think it was. Mother didn't want to leave us behind, so we tagged along while she was there, teaching 'The Unit' infiltration and combat techniques. That was the first time I witnessed how my mother dealt with sexism, and boy was there a lot of it!"

"When was this? Like, the seventies?"

"1967. It was about a month after the Six-Day War between Israel and the Arab States."

"I'm not very good with military history," Vivian said sheepishly as the elevator slowed to a stop and the doors opened, "but I think I can understand the sexism part."

"The Spanish were very traditional. They weren't disrespectful, mind, or their officers, who'd seen mother in action, would have come down on them, but... well, you know how it can be."

"You sound very proud of her," Vivian offered.

"I saw her take down men bigger and heavier than her by pure skill alone. I mean, she wasn't a Navy SEAL, but I've always kind of wondered why she was the one training these tall, macho guys," I shrugged as we left the condo. "They've changed quite a bit, from what I've heard, and have the largest percentage of military women in Europe. I think that has something to do with their unemployment and how they want career soldiers, rather than a citizen army. They only abolished mandatory military training some years back." I helped her into the car, her hand in mine as I tried not to stare at the expanse of leg exposed just inches from my trembling hands. I quickly got behind the wheel and we pulled out.

"Wasn't there something that happened in Las Vegas in the early nineties?"

"The Tailhook scandal. That was the first time I think the Navy really had to deal with their sexism in public forum. And although it was mostly women who were assaulted, a few men were as well. Mother never talked about anything happening to her, but she encouraged me to take the martial arts courses."

"Wow. Ker-reepy."

"That was one of the reasons I was never interested in the Service. It was officers like my father who'd turn a blind eye and blame the victim rather than do the right thing and prosecute the perpetrator. And most perpetrators still don't see what they did as wrong. The line between banter and harassment is pretty blurred in an insulated environment like that."

"Do you keep up with this stuff?" Vivian wondered as she applied some sparkling lip gloss. I tried to keep my attention on the road.

"I have a couple of friends who did go into the service. One's even a graduate of the Naval Academy, but after Aberdeen Scandal. Another serves in NCIS." I shook my head. "It's not like the whole service is corrupt, but the culture at the time encouraged it, no matter how explicitly illegal it was."

"I remember my friends and I hanging out on the piers in Savannah. They thought it was daring, whistling at the uniformed men as they came in from the naval base. They were pretty well behaved."

"They know they aren't in Service culture when they go off base," I gave her a look and quirked an eyebrow. "So you were one of those uniform chasers?" I teased.

"Maybe," she laughed. "Well, I was just the bait, you know? Made the boys turn their heads. It was harmless teasing fun, but I was pretty careful too. And really, I was more interested in motorcycles and mechanics at the time. When Ari'd visited, we'd just hang out in an old junkyard. She'd cut up the junk they towed in for fun money and I'd scavenge for parts. Drove daddy nuts, those days. I'd come home with some new 'toy' he'd call it, and with Ari in tow."

We pulled into the parking lot of the Middleton Marnier Hotel, a three story stone building on the edge of the Middleton Golf and Country Club, just outside city limits. Vivian leaned forward to get a better look at the stonework, and I looked away to resist the tempting sight.

"Wow, we're going to be in here? Just how big is your dance class?"

"It's the graduation dance for the Middleton Dance Association, so that's most of the schools within the county." I pulled into a spot in the nearly full parking lot. "Should be at least two hundred people?" We got out of the SUV abd Vivian shaded her eyes with a hand as she looked at the old stone mansion.

"Wow, and I thought we were going to a small hall or something! How does this place stay in business?"

"Upperton's just up the road, and the airport isn't far. Lots of conventions and associations... being a heritage building helps, the Mayor says."

"Did I say that, Doctor?" a deep voice behind me rumbled. I turned to find a squat muscular black man in a dark silk Hugo Boss suit and polished two-tone shoes. A woman in a Jackie-O lilac jacket and pencil skirt held his arm.

"Charles!" I greeted him. "Darlene! I thought you were at the Shriner convention downtown tonight?"

"I was, did my speech and everything."

"Ol' Two-Tone Charlie wouldn't miss this for the world, you know how he is," Darlene laughed. "We learned the rumba, and he's dying to try it out tonight."

"And who is this vision with you? The other Dr. Possible couldn't make it out?"

"Ah well, you know how it can be."

"Bill!" the Mayor suddenly roared. "Honey, there's Bill."

"Alright, I'll meet you at our table, dear. Just don't be late for the opening speech!"

"Excuse me, ladies," he nodded, before walking away briskly towards a tall caucasian couple. "Bill, you serial bullshitter!" he called out as he walked away. Darlene turned to us.

"We might as well go in together. When Charlie and Bill start going, they could talk till the cows come home. Hi Helen!" The young woman that had been with Bill had come up and gave us all a kiss in greeting as we were all made acquainted.

"Helen, Darlene," I gestured to Vivian. "This is my friend, Dr. Vivian Porter. She's the resident Robotics expert at the Centre." Vivian suddenly simpered and smiled. "Vivian, this is Darlene Daniels; she's a very successful real estate agent, and the Mayor is married to her."

"Charmed," Vivian said with a simper and a heavy Georgian accent. I forced myself not to blink, although I'm sure my lip quivered as Vivian shook hands with the shorter, lean woman. "And this is Helen Ducharme, an associate professor at Middleton University; the District Attorney is married to her." Helen, a dark haired, voluptuous woman, pushed back her shrug, was especially effusive in her greetings, her lavender and gold trimmed dress swishing with it's thick tiered ruffles that ran from the hem and gathered up the side of her dress. I was awed as I witnessed Vivian turning on her Georgian charm with a batted eye and a ingenious smile.

We entered through a stone covered porte. it opened to a rich, panelled series of coridors, the rich dark wood reaching all the way to the plaster ceiling. We passed a coatroom and and a long corridor that stretched from one end of the old stone building to the other, before passing through an arched, double door into the grand hall. In the middle of the large, inlaid wood floor was a short stone fountain with a high, four foot basin. Cloth covered tables of deep orange lined the walls, and opposite of the entrance was a wide oval dais where seats and panelled music stands and instruments awaited the absent masters and mistresses. I stepped up to a table near the entrance and received a small piece of paper with our table number on it as I signed in. Vivian wandered away, staring at the cedar panels on the ceiling, reading the heraldry of the family long gone and forgotten in the past.

"What table are you?" Darlene asked. I looked down at the small stub of paper in my gloved hand.

"Twenty."

"Really?" Helen smiled. "Me too."

"And me," Darlene grinned. I rolled my eyes.

"Heaven help us," I said, my hands clasped in prayer. We all laughed. I walked over to collect Vivian, who had wandered along the silk and taffeta draped walls and had ended up near the fountain.

"This is really something, Doc," she said in an awed voice. "Even The Christmas Cotillion... I dunno. That seems so tacky compared to this." She turned to me with those shining sky blue eyes, and an uncertain, embarrassed smile. I repressed a shudder of pleasure.

"We're seated with Darlene and Helen."

"Hobnobbing with the powerful?" she teased.

"I met them through the Upperton Golf and Country Club," I said as I escorted her to our table. "It's just the next road over from here; the hotel's property overlooks the sixteenth hole, and they have a deal going for members here."

"You have a membership there?"

"Since I was in University. The whole family, even the boys. Although they haven't been active members since they set fire to the fourteenth green for a rocket experiment."

"You sound almost proud of them," Vivian noted with amusement as I pulled out a chair for her.

"I'm not sure if I'd say proud... embarrassed, furious... but I was impressed."

"Impressed?"

"They were nine at that launch." Her laughter was a wonder to behold.

The evening was filled with Andalusian delights. Dinner was a series of flavourful and delicate Andalusian tapas; each was accompanied by a bottle of wine. The atmosphere was provided by a very lively flamenco fivesome, kept the evening's music light and flowing during the dinner portion. The flamenco guitarist was especially talented, and I often saw Vivian smiling and tapping her fingers to the complex note patterns the lean, mouse-haired, bespectacled woman plucked from her instrument.

I could see the furtive glances that were sent our way. I wriggled inwardly at the whispers, ill-hidden behind cupped hands and the curious glances. But one smile from Vivian made me realize that I didn't care, and that frightened me more than my worry at what was being said about us.

Throughout the night, couples would leave the table to show off their skills on the floor. After the fifth tapa, and with a light flush on our cheeks, I stood and held out my hand. Vivian looked up at me, her eyes shining with excitement. There was an electric tingle that sparked when out hands met, and her amorous smile widened with surprised pleasure as I drew her to her feet and we wended out way to the edge of the floor and waited for an opening. The music that night was mostly samba and merengue; not all couples were experienced dancers, or even taking courses. Charles and Darlene had to request the rumba. When another merengue song came up, I smiled my most winning smile at Vivian and nodded to the floor. To my surprise, a shockingly alluring blush dusted her cheeks.

"Nervous?" Vivian's eyes were wide, the charmingly tight grip of her gloved hand a dead giveaway.

"I-... a little," she admitted sheepishly.

"You haven't danced Latin before?"

"Traditional ballroom, waltz, that sort of thing..."

"Don't worry. Just follow my lead, alright? It's a four count. The rhythm is bum ba-bum bum, bum bum, ba-ba-ba-ba." She giggled nervously. I took her hands in mine. "Just mirror what I do to start with."

"Okay... ok."

"We'll do a basic side step, ok? Start with your left."

"Uh... alright."

"It's easier if you swing your hips."

"Not much hip swinging in waltz, mosh or clubbing."

"Ready?" She took a deep breath, her eyes closed, then exhaled slowly. Her brilliant eyes opened and she nodded.

"Ready."

"Alright then." I looked at the swirling bodies that moved past us and spotted a break. "Here we go. One and two and three and four," I counted in time with the music and then I swept her out onto the floor, her parted skirt whirling, the stitching flashing in the dim light. We stood at arms length, her left hand resting lightly on my right shoulder, my hand on her slim waist, and other hands joined in a clasp, the standard closed position, letting her catch the feel of the rhythm. She was quick and very responsive, the sway of her hips, hypnotic. We swirled on a grinning euphoria, stepping in time in a simple side to side. I found a clear spot for us and side stepped us over. Once there, I started us on the basic back step. Vivian immediately followed my example, like a pro, her eyes slightly unfocused, her lips pursed with concentration. As she began to relax, I changed to the side step, Vivian following along in time. Then I turned her. She gasped as she spun around once, her feet still moving. Then I spun her in an under arm spin in the other direction. Then she laughed, hiked her skirt with her other hand and spun again, turning me by the held arm. And then it hit me. My chest constricted and my face flushed. As I gazed at her rich pale golden hair, her teasing mischievous eyes and her soft, sparkling laughter washing over me, I felt a sudden feeling of contentment, of rightness fall upon me.

I always thought stardust was just overly exaggerated imagination, interplanetary particles or finely powderized tinsel. Now, I knew better.

I slid out and began guiding her through more and more complex steps. Open Break. One hand turns. Handshake turns. Double turns. Whip spins. Two ships passing. Pretzel. Sweetheart. Hammerlock. Her brilliant smile and her light laughter made me feel young once more. People were watching, pointing, whispering, but I was beyond caring, insulated by her effusive and delectable rapture, caught up in the effluvia of emotion and liquid courage.

We took a break, laughing as we piled into chairs set around the dance floor for resting participants, panting from our exertions.

"Very well done, Dr. Possible," I turned to find a voluptuous Latino woman standing beside us dressed in a simple satin silk cream shirt and a black, light flowing long skirt. Her dark, dark hair was put up in a loose bun, with ringlets that cascaded down the back.

"Ms. Leal! Thank you. Dr. Vivian Porter, this is Ms. Leal, our instructor. Ms. Leal, Dr. Porter." Vivian shook the woman's hand. She sent me a knowing look.

"You dance very well," the woman's accent was light as she complimented her.

"Thank you, I've never done merengue before," she smiled. Ms. Leal turned to me.

"And you... marvellous as always," Ms. Leal said. "Especially tonight! Very good."

"Thank you. Will you be dancing the flamenca tonight?"

"Yes, at the end to top off the night on a passionate note." She nodded as she moved to speak to another couple.

We danced every song after that, until my legs ached and my back was pierced with nails from holding its erect form. The night ended with a juerga style flamenco, where the instructors danced. We encircled them, shouting Gitano words that were meaningless in their joy and wild abandon. With a final flourish, we cheered, whistled and applauded with vigour. We shared farewells with Charles and Darlene, William and Helen.

Vivian clung enticingly to me, her arm around my shoulders, her impish grin infectious as we made our way to the car. But as we drove, the mood palpably changed, thickening. I drove slowly to enjoy her presence, not wanting the night to end, yet knowing it must. She was uncharacteristically silent, her eyes watching me in a pensive mood that brooked no discussion, forestalled any conversation. She wore a serious expression that I was growing accustomed to seeing and I resolved to discover why as we pulled into the roundabout drop off at her condo.

"Are you alright, Vivian? You've been awfully quiet." She sat silent for a moment, a stillness born of hesitancy, her eyes somber twinkles in the night. The her lips quirked in a rueful, lopsided smile.

"It's kinda embarrassing..." she began. Then her face settled, as if some sort of resolution had been reached. "Come closer and I'll whisper it to you," she giggled.

"Fine, fine," I leaned forward. But as I turned and leaned towards her, she slipped a hand to cup my cheek and guided my lips to hers.

Neither bawdy, nor grotesquely crass. There were no appendages involved, no transfer of fluids. No nibbling, no chewing, no multiple nips. It was probably as chaste as a kiss could be be.

It was as if an explosion had gone off inside me. Electric, magical heat flared from my body, a hungry conflagration of something so meaningful and precious that all conscious thought ceased. My eyes were wide open with the shock of the encounter, her infinitely soft lips pressed against mine. And after an eternity of what must really have been only a few seconds, she withdraw gracefully, her face sad and serious at the same time.

"I really, really had a great time, Doc. Thanks."

It took me a moment to kickstart my brain and close my gaping mouth, but by then she slipped out of the car, and waved with a slight touch of adorable shyness. I lifted a hand in stunned automatic response, and then she was gone, past the security door with a swipe of her card and into the concealed confines of the foyer.

I drove home in a daze. My pulse pounded in my head, my hands trembled with a fierce, wild heat. I wasn't even sure how I made it home in one piece. Somehow, I made it to the bedroom, showered, and eventually made it to bed. But as I lay in my desolate sheets, I knew that I would give anything, anything at all to see her again. I was getting careless. I was losing control. I needed to get away. I had to leave before things progressed farther. I knew, that if she kissed me again, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from taking it further.

I could still feel that delicate, delectable connection on my lips, burning like a brand in my mind.

Slim had always said Montana was nice this time of year, and with an open ended invitation, a visit to the Lazy C was just what I needed to get Vivian off my mind.


	6. Interlude One: Fly

A/N:

Kim Possible and all related characters © Disney  
Disclaimer: This is written purely for the love of writing, the enjoyment of others, and not for profit.

- KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP -  
**  
Blue Jeans**  
Interlude One: Fly  
by sweetPixiesmile

- KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP -

"You're shitting me, right?"

"I wish I was."

"And you haven't heard anything since that night?"

"No. Nothing."

"..."

"..."

"Well, shit, Viv."

"I... I think..."

"I think your precious Doc got scared and ran is what. Fuck. And I thought you said you had something going here."

"I did. I said so, I thought so... now, I don't know..."

"What then? Did you call, you know, get something at least?"

"I don't think so. I did call, I checked the office, I even asked Wanda..."

"Wow, you really are desperate, blondie."

"I know. _That _was a big mistake, talking to that uptight pencil pusher. She even gave me the 'your personal life is none of my business, but' speech."

"..."

"I'm glad my wreck of a personal life is so funny to you."

"Oh c'mon. Sorry, sweet-cheeks, it's just so pathetic."

"You mean like you and-"

"Yeah, okay, I got it, I'll back off. Jeeze, you're so pissy."

"Says the walking nuclear furnace."

"I'm sorry I laughed okay?... So do you know where Doc's run off to?"

"I dunno. Ah, fuck, why did things end up this way? Maybe I was moving too fast..."

"You were just the eager beaver."

"Shitty pun."

"Thanks. Got a truckload more where those came from."

"Yeahhhh... no more of that, okay?"

"You know, it's not a complete disaster."

"What do you mean?"

"... You asked for it."

"Oh, shit, no!"

"You left an upwardly mobile, cushy,..."

"Stop! Stop you stupid cow!"

"... low demand, money milking job..."

"Oh my god, do you have to rub it in?"

"For one with less pay, about the same security, which means none at all, by the way, but has tons more work..."

"... Why did I even bother calling you?"

"You moved from a Miami penthouse near a perpetual summer beach front with hotties galore..."

"That place was really jumping, wasn't it?"

"... for a place that will freeze your nose hairs in less than sixty seconds in the winter."

"I think I might have to buy a parka. I could've had a different hottie every day in the penthouse if I wanted."

"You really wanna do this?"

"Do it. Remind me why I moved back to Middleton?"

"Because you spent the last two years pining for a Possible that you thought you couldn't have? That you were so miserable you went back to your Everlot addiction to get through the day? That you couldn't sleep without rubbing yourself raw over an office party photo?"

"Hey, I had people over to scratch that itch!"

"Yeah, but you bitch busted every single one. Remember Lori?"

"Lori? Who?"

"..."

"Ari, this is Lori we're talking about."

"Point taken, but, fuck Viv, that's cold."

"That's why you laughed. I had buddies for that..."

"Except you had Possible on the brain. I heard you were insatiable; you even broke Stacy."

"What? Where'd you hear that?"

"Girl, you're not the only one with fuck buddies."

"I- what? You and Stacy?"

"And Cory, and Sue, and Liz, and..."

"OH. MY. GAWD."

"And you give _me _shit for laughing at you?"

"Sorry... sorry, it's just... we're both so pathetic."

"No more than you."

"I'm sorry for it now though. I mean, it just wasn't the same, you know? I actually felt,... you know..."

"Guilty? Like you were betraying 'Doc'?"

"It's stupid, I know. I mean we never even hooked up; I never gave it a chance, took that leap of faith. But I just can't really get into that any more. Just so fucking dumb."

"That _is_ pretty lame."

"Yeah? Well, while I'm home wrecking, you're chasing jailbait."

"Shit, Georgia... Yeah, okay I was. Am. Is... ah, fuck."

"How long now?"

"..."

"Three years?"

"... Four."

"Well, I'm going on three if this keeps up."

"And we just can't forget them."

"Yeah."

"..."

"..."

"You're right, Viv..."

"Yeah, we're so..."

"... fucking pathetic!"

"Omigawd stop, I'm gonna pee...!"

"Yeah, you go girl!"

"Stop, people are staring... omigaaaawwwddd..."

"Well, I'm gonna take your good Dr.'s advice and keep at it; that was good face."

"I don't know even want to know what the hell that means to you, but I wonder if the advice would have been different if Doc knew,-"

"Don't think it. All the Possibles know me, seen me."

"Oh. Right. Ahhhh, here's the call for my flight."

"Where you going? Running away? Going for a fuck and forget vacation?"

"No, you perv. Got a call to help out a friend in the north west. I'll call you when I get in."

"M'kay. Unless you hook up with a sweet and sexy-."

"As if. You know I loves ya."

"Back atcha, Viv. Have a nice flight."

"Thanks. Bye!"

"Buh-bye."


	7. Chapter Four: Twang

A/N:Wow. Finally finished the chapter. Not sure why it took me so long, but it did. Now we can move on to the big Harvest Dance.

Once again, straight from my brain to forum, with no betas in sight. Raw and undiluted for your reading pleasure.

Kim Possible and all related characters © Disney  
Disclaimer: This is written purely for the love of writing, the enjoyment of others, and not for profit.

- KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP -

**Blue Jeans  
Chapter Four: Twang**  
_by sweetPixiesmile_

- KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP -

The last several days had been a blur of frustration and relaxation. No one had been willing to take the trip out with me; they all had things that needed to be accomplished, or responsibilities that couldn't be pushed. So I made the trip alone, with nothing to accompany me but my own traitorous thoughts and feelings. The flight over was a special kind of torture.

Waking up each morning to the crisp unadulterated air of the Missouri Breaks was invigorating. Slim had been accommodating and happy for the surprise visit, only asking for some advice on my sixteen year old niece who was growing up faster than he'd hoped and taking over some of the house chores, such as laser precision welding. But the farm was lonely; None of the other Middleton clan had been able to make it out to the ranch. Joscelyn was already fast tracked to Tokyo University, where she was applying her mechanical know-how to creating the first light-weight commercially viable android maid. Slim had proudly given a tour of the lands, pointing out some of the mechanical farmhands that Joss had built before being snapped up by Tokyo U, in an effort to eclipse Osaka U. The Japanese university had pursued her with a soft spoken, single-minded determination, outbidding Carnegie Mellon, Lausanne Polytech's LASA, and even a very aggressive bid by the Istituto Italiano di Tecnologia in Italy for the privilege of having the daughter of a world renown automaton specialist, roboticist and cyberneticist on site. At the very least, it was a good opportunity to get into the good graces of a man who held several important mechanical patents.

I swung myself out of bed and put on a dark blue tracksuit with a light blue trim over a black Under Armour® active shirt and shorts set. I clipped on a tight neoprene activity belt around my waist. The house was quiet in the pre-morning dawn, the sky just beginning to lighten in the distance, a burgeoning line of gold and yellow pushing back the curtains of night. I filled my water bottle from a deep well pump Slim had installed by the front doors and slipped it into the belt behind my back. The sky was high, and blue, soaring. In the distance, hawks circled, searching for breakfast.

I put in my wireless earbud earphones and slid my handheld into a pocket beside the black metal water bottle.

I made my way to the fence that surrounded the front of the house, stretching as I went, then cut across the corral and barn to the back trail. Tall grass waved gently in the light morning breeze.

Running was a hidden passion that I had always cherished, and I'd always pushed myself hard on those lonely, solitary trails of Montana when I'd had the privilege. The rhythm of my feet striking the ground, soft and forgiving from the morning dew, the road rising up to greet me; it was a harmony of transport that gave clarity of mind. As I ran, my limbs working in unison, I could let my thoughts lie, or stir them up for examination. The morning air whistled past me as my lungs laboured and a light sheen of perspiration cooled my overheated pate as my mind delved into the deeper recesses of myself.

I recalled the first time social encounter with Vivian. It was at one of the after work pub Fridays. Even then she was into very revealing crop tops and miniskirts. I had felt an instant rapport with her at the time, while sitting at the bar, side by side. The air then was heavy and damp with the musk of patrons. A live country rock band was playing on the stage, and the rest of the crowd of Centre and their significant others, scattered from my awareness like chaff before the wind of our surprising connection. It was a revelation that shattered carefully built foundations inside me, as much as my subconscious tried to bury it.

The suddenness of her departure was even more of a shock.

In the afterbirth of my emotional ruination, I constructed a well honed lie that the attraction had been nothing but a fanciful outburst, a dream of friendship and companionship spoilt by fate. That the nascent feelings that had far surpassed anything I had felt in all my years of marriage was something I chose to ignore, assigning culpability to liquor.

But the feeling never really went away. It was always in the back of my mind, a vague memory of a ghost, the faint wriggling sensation of an old falsehood, so old that the deception had become a hollow effigy of truth. Some lies can take root in a person, and that person may be able to convince themselves of the deception. But my mother always told me that truth was the stronger, if the harder way, and had trained my brother and I to root out fundamental self inventions and personal distortions.

Mother would never have suffered to live a lie, nor one to set any stock on niceties. And hence, when she and father came to an ultimate impasse on the topic of raising children, she took heart in her courage and her fate in her hands. She left active duty for a training position and settled down to give us stability. To some, it was a demotion, career suicide. To others, it was a well deserved rest. To only her closest confidants, and her children, we knew that it was doing the right thing.

But where her desire for truth had led her to separate from father for the sake of family, my truth, my emotional verisimilitude would threaten the very fabric of my familial existence. It would shake and shatter the lives around me, the notions and preconceptions that others had of me. It would vilify me and cause an ever expanding ripple effect of stress and tension in all my relationships.

I paused at the crest of what Slim called Windy Rise, the tallest in the rolling land that sheltered the Lazy C Ranch. High above, the splines of the ranch's wind generator whirled. I turned to see the Crooked D in the distance, the place where Drew, in his desperate search for acclaim and acceptance, had hosted a conference for geniuses with the goal of dumbing them down with a thought inhibitor planted in their complimentary hats.

I closed my eyes, revelling in the brisk, exhilaratingly fresh air. Chinooks from the south west, arctic flows from the north over the Canadian border, this hill was nearly constantly scoured by wind. In the distance, the Missouri River curved in gently from the East, converging with the Marias from the West. I took several deep breaths.

I was afraid of the consequences of my actions. I needed to decide whether or not I was willing to accept the repercussions of such actions. Would I be willing to face the turmoil that my storm of emotions would lead me to, should I accept Vivian? Or would I be willing to reject Vivian, to minimize the damage to two, and live a lie for the rest of my life? Would I be grow embittered by my choice? Time was only linear in the past, all the decisions and actions stamped into reality. But the future spread before me, an infinite series of permutations.

There was no telling what might happen in the future, regardless of the choice I made. No sure thing, especially in my fields of expertise, only probabilities, correlations and tendencies. Should my decisions be governed by fear? If I chose one, there would be an immediate backlash. If I chose the other, I would regret it the rest of my life.

So.

I needed to make a decision and soon, lest my feelings deepen and destroy Vivian and myself. I needed to take the risk of either choice and accept that it was the best I could have done of the moment. Who knew what the future might hold?

The run back held a composed serenity that I hadn't felt for weeks.

After a morning shower, I returned to change into a tight pair of bootcut shiloh Paige Canyons and a loose fitting ivory linen shirt. I made the bed, a comforting behaviour for me, and went down stairs from the second story wood beam ranch house into a large open family room, dining table and kitchen area. A video display on the fridge began to play a recorded video message as I pulled out some coffee beans from the counter. As much as Slim was a hard for leather working cowboy, he was just like any other Possible; the rough hewn timber style house was stuffed full of top of the line appliances. The kitchen itself was a mix of thick wood counter tops and professional grade ranges, ovens, refrigerators, mixers and fans.

"Morning, Slick. Here's hopin' ya'll had a good night an're all fresh as daisies this fine mornin'." Slim's kindly, weathered face smiled through his carefully trimmed handlebar moustache. "Now, ah've ben call'd away for some emergency pow wow with some ornery tinhorns over at the Chizzney plant; somethin' 'bout mah schematics demandin' tolerances too fine for their machinery. So ah'm off ta Florida fer probably better than a fortnight. Ah've got a favour to ask you. Ah've got a fren' flying in this afternoon, at 2:30, who's ben a great help with the farm handybots. Ah've emailed the flight number and terminal to yer phone. Keys to the three fifty's by the door an' there's a pot of four alarm in the fridge that's ben settin' all night long. Oh, an another thang. Ah got me a pair o' tickets to the big summer dance at the hall fer tamorrah. If'n y'all inclined, just use 'em. Well, Ah got to vamoose outta here."

I opened one of the doors of the side-by-side fridge and noted the stainless steel kettle and smiled. Slim's four alarm chili might be hot, but it was the best this side of Texas. I pulled out a bag of separated dough I'd left in the fridge and put it in the non-stick bread pan. I turned on the oven and sat on the porch, enjoying my coffee. When the oven chime sounded, I put the pan in the oven and set the timer.

I spent the better part of the morning reading a book that I'd always wanted to look at, but never had the nerve to pull out in Middleton, called the Female Man. It was a story about an all female society.

When the oven chime went off, I put a bowl of four alarm in the microwave and pulled out the loaf as the chili heated; it was an early lunch, since driving to the airport would take almost an hour on the interstate, and I wanted to be sure that I'd get there on time. I checked my handheld and the time of the flight. I washed the dishes and wiped the table before heading out of the door with the keys to the enormously monstrous pickup truck Slim called his 350.

Great Falls Airport was a wide squat thing with the classic red brick of the seventies and very sharp corners. For some odd reason, it made me think of the old seedy hotels in Las Vegas, with the wide, white, trapezoidal second story and wide roof lip to the two obelisk like plinths bookending the front doors, it seemed almost like a ranchero house, Montana style. I stood near the main exit, ten minutes early, gazing at the waves of wooden slats above the black, white lettered monolith that hung from the fifty foot ceiling, welcoming arrivals to Grand Falls, wondering who Slim's friend would be.

"D-doc...?"

I froze at the sound of that high, sweet voice. I turned slowly, as in a dream, the airport darkening in the face of the vision before me, of light golden hair and shocked bright blue eyes.

There she stood, the source of my trepidation, the soul of my passion, the agent of my destiny, wearing a pair of Evisu boyfriend shorts, her long, finely tanned legs a wonder to behold under a loose crimson shirt with intricately tribal stitch along her shoulders. Muted by a heavy sense of fate and rightness, my feet moved of their own accord, my mind reeling and confused, until I stood close to her, my pulse rabbiting with desire. The answer to my previous ruminations was coming to me, with every painful, charged beat of my heart. Her hand was holding her handheld to her ear, but her eyes were lit like the fourth of July, a bright flush painting her lovely cheeks. A faint voice was calling enquiries from her phone. She continued to stand there, her mouth open, her chest rising and falling in an alluring rush of emotion, an overnight bag, all but forgotten, trailing behind in her other hand.

I took the device from her before she dropped it.

"She'll call you back," I said to the person on the phone before hanging up, a squawk of alarm cut off in mid-outrage, our gazes locked in profound agony of affection. Vivian stood still, her hand still raised. I pulled her hand down, the pad of my thumb against the soft smoothness of her palm , her hand closed reflexively as I slid her phone into it.

"Hi," I said, my voice low with a sudden shyness, my hand still on hers.

"Hi." It was an amazing thing, for the two of us to be standing there, sharing the same air. All on our own, we found each other; perhaps not coincidentally, since our circles must overlap. But to overlap so fortuitously was mind boggling.

"Fancy meeting you here."

"I..." The languorous sweep of her lashes fluttered as if to clear her vision, but continued with a stronger, if still breathless, voice. "I'm here to help a friend with... with something."

"Oh? What?" I rubbed the delicate web of her hand with my thumb, unable to stop touching her smooth skin, even in such an innocent spot. Vivian seemed to have difficulty focusing on my words, but she eventually replied.

"He called and said he'd been having some problems with the... the... uh... hydraulic gears in his handybots, so I'm installing a screw driven arm extension." I looked directly into her eyes.

"Will you be staying with your friend?" I asked, feeling a blush rising on my cheeks.

"I'm not sure... he left me a message last night, saying he was going to be out of town, and that some one was going to pick me up and take me to the ranch." My breath caught in my throat. I shoved down the querulous feeling that wormed its way up my spine.

"Your friend wouldn't be called Slim, would it?" I asked in a strangled voice. Vivian's pupils dilated.

"You... you're my ride?" she breathed incredulously. Then a sudden grin emerged from the tide of shock, her face flushing with an unexpected pleasure that left me wallowing in a nervous yearning. Then, like shuttering the sun, her smile drained away. "Uh... you, I mean I don't have to stay if... if you'd prefer..." It was my turn for surprise; I hadn't thought that Vivian would feel sensitive or worried about me. I continued to hold her hand.

"Vivian," I said, before stopping, gazing into her distressed eyes. "Did you bring anything else?"

"Uh... yeah, a cargo box with the arms..."

"Come on. Let's get out of here." I took her firmly and lead her out the door. She followed along, as meek as a lamb. The short walk felt like a mile, as my mind raced over what I might say to her, what I should say to her. I thought about what I had done, what she might have felt at my sudden and unexplained disappearance, what she might have felt about that. Would she have felt it was a rejection? Would she be angry, upset? It seemed not, since she hadn't slapped me or given any overt impressions of anger. Her fingers lingered for a moment in my hand as I helped her step onto the runner and into the truck, sliding her fingers across my palm before releasing me. I put her overnight in the back of the cab and tried to get into the compartment with a nonchalance that belied my thudding heart. I could still feel the resolve of the morning and the heavy sense of cosmic congruence.

After a quick stop at the cargo area, we headed back to the ranch.

Vivian sat silently. I could tell she was trying not to fidget, her fingers worrying at the frayed hem of her very short shorts. Her head was turned, her eyes gazing sightlessly out the window at the carved Missouri River. It was a silent and tense ride, and I wondered if I should continue to pretend that I was making good on Slim's promise to house Vivian, or to come right out and tell her that I was glad for her company. We drove into the open dirt courtyard in front of the ranch house and I let her out onto the porch with her bag, before parking the truck. As I switched off the engine, I took another deep breath, before getting out. I walked slowly to the house, Vivian standing there, waiting.

"Vivian," I opened the conversation. She turned her morose eyes towards me, exuding a tense, wary aura.

"I'm not sorry I kissed you."

"I-, uh," I said, my thoughts suddenly derailed. I took a deep breath to attempt to contain the sudden squirrelling of happiness that bubbled up. "I'm not mad at you Vivian. I'm sorry I left so suddenly, but... I needed time to think." Something in her face eased, a tension that had been there, and suddenly, a soft, small, unadulterated smile lit her wonderful face. "C'mon," I said, suddenly embarrassed. "Let's get you set up inside." I picked up her overnight and went into the shaded safety of the house.

"What did you want to do first?" I asked as we made our way up the stairs.

"I thought I'd start right away and maybe work until sunset."

"You've been here before?"

"Only via webcam. I didn't even know Slim was a Possible!"

"Slim's got a robotics lab in the back of the house. I can call the hands in for their retrofit." I turned down the hall towards the guest room opposite of mine. "You can take this room; I'm over here." I nodded across the corridor. I put her case next to the double-sized bed. "Hungry?"

"Yeah. I forgot to get anything for the flight over, and didn't want aeroplane food."

"I'll rustle up some four alarm chili, unless you'd prefer something with less bite?"

"Only four?" she teased as she opened the overnight and began taking out her clothing. "No, it's fine. I love it when it's spicy," she gave me an innocent smile, but her knowing eyes raised a slight blush to my face.

"Alright, then, chili it is."

Vivian ate quickly as I sipped tea and read. There was an odd sort of tension between us, an unspoken feeling of anticipation and eagerness. I schooled my face to sublimity, trying to give no outward sign of interest. And yet, I was interested, very much so. Vivian kept sneaking looks at me as I serenely ignored her. When she had finished, I cleared her plate and brought her to the lab.

Slim had spared no expense. The lab was a donation from NASA... which I reflected in surprise, may have been where Vivian had met Slim. There was a sealed area for completely clean work, with pristine vented walls and hard plastic panels, as well as a loading bay for regular retrofits, a dirty garage feel when dust and oil wasn't a concern. I went to the control panel situated between the two and after a bit of trial and error, was able to give Vivian a first hand look at one of the smooth bodied handybots, which I also ordered to bring Vivian's large container with the replacement arms into the loading bay. The handybots were Slim's automated farmhands. They were a dull gunmetal grey, humanoid in shape, but with a clear half-sphere on the top of their head assembly, that housed bi-ocular cameras and various sensors under the dome. Their arms were hydraulic, and could extend ten feet.

"Just leave that one here so I can see what needs to be done," she said, once again in close fitted coveralls, a lavender bandanna tying her golden tresses back and a lavender tube top.

"I'll stick around just in case you need a hand," I suggested. She nodded absentmindedly as she placed her laptop on a nearby work table. She sorted through a few of Slim's tool boxes, fired up the compression motor for the pneumatic tools. I sat on a nearby chair, reading when she snorted. I looked up to see her standing back from the handybot.

"What?"

"The arm shell casing's welded shut. I can't get at the shoulder joint without cutting the shell, but I'm afraid I'm not a very good welder. I mean, I can do some ac welding, but I'm pretty rough..." She sighed, leaning with a hand on the open power panel, with the disconnected power source still glowing softly inside.

"I'll do it." Her lovely blue eyes widened in surprise.

"You know how to weld?" she asked as I went to Slim's nearby set of lockers in one corner.

"Yep. I'm pretty handy with a laser." I pulled out anti-flame coveralls, a pair of long, elbow-length gloves and a shield and goggle helmet. The last to go on was the welding apron.

"Just cut it away here," she said, describing a line with her finger that ran from the back of the handybot, under the arm and then up the front of the automaton. "Judging from the schematics, I should be able to get at all the screws there."

"Alright," I said, handing her a pair of goggles, which she donned with a grateful smile.

I pulled down the laser torch from the suspended harness and soon, the shell around the shoulder fell to the ground with a reverberating clang.

"Thanks, Doc," she grinned. She slid a ceiling runner mounted chain hoist and wrapped the long two inch links around the old arm, pulling it taut before hefting the pneumatic drill. In minutes, she had disassembled the arm from the shoulder, and was busy labelling and taping the wiring. She swung the arm off to the side, to a heavy work bench, lowering the arm to the flat tabletop with a jingling of chain links. She spent a few moments checking and rechecking the fit before nodding and swinging the chain link hoist to the cargo canister and lifted one of the screw-driven arms. She glanced up and our eyes met. A tiny smile lit her face.

"Doc, could you hold this still while I drive in the screws?" she raised and eyebrow.

"Sure." I braced the arm as she drove the bolts in, her brow adorable in its serious concentration. Next were the wires. She then attached the breakers for the handybot core, and plugged a USB cable from her laptop to the outlet inside the open battery cavity. After a few seconds, she pulled the cable out, reattached all the wires. The status light behind the bi-ocular sensor inside the dome flickered to life, a dull, ruddy red, which began to flash. The colour changed to orange and finally, turned green.

"'Kay Doc, close'er up," she smiled, lowering her goggles. I stepped up and welded shoulder shell back on, the metal discolouring only slightly from the heat. Vivian whistled, her goggles up as I put the laser welder away and secured it to a hook hanging from the ceiling.

"That's one fine bead, Doc."

"I've got a steady hand, and years of practise."

"Almost as fine a line as a robo-weld. I can't even really see the bead width." I flushed at her incredulous, well intentioned compliment.

"What now?" I asked to deflect, as I pulled off the gloves, stowing them inside the welder's helmet. She stood at a nearby sink, scrubbing vigorously at her hands, a dark froth forming from the grease on the shoulder joint. She rinsed and washed once more, examining her hands after the second time. She sighed and reached for a dry cloth and a nearby tub of petroleum jelly.

"Now, we wait and see if the arm takes," she said as she slathered the sticky translucent gel on her hands and rubbed. "If it doesn't have any problems during tomorrow's routine, I'll fit the rest of them the day after. I've added a monitor app in the shell and an API for Slim to access it; I'll check it on my handheld."

"So... essentially, you're free for the next two days?"

"Barring any complications," she said, thoughtfully, with a small private smile, "looks like."

"Let me put a chili pie in the oven... want to go for a ride while it bakes?"

"Doesn't Slim only have ol' Tornado?"

"No, Joss tried her hand at one before she left, and she rides like a dream. She constructed it after the Egyptian Arabians, just like Slim used the Appaloosa. Her name is Lela."

"Lela?" Vivian wondered aloud.

"No clue."

"Ah. Well, sure. Let me freshen up..."

I quickly washed my hands, raced to the kitchen and pulled out some frozen phyllo, quickly making a thick crust with very light butter brushed in between the layers. I then spooned Slim's thick four alarm chili along with some avocado and onions into the crust and covered it, impressing some vent holes before putting it in the timer set, heating oven.

"Wow, you really can do everything," I heard Vivian quip behind me. I turned, schooling the shuddering inside and steadying my voice.

"Thanks," I said. Vivian was standing near the bottom of the stairs, wearing a loose, pink and silver plaid cotton shirt the hem tied tightly under her chest. A dark, wide leather belt that rested jauntily on her hips it's brushed silver buckle drawing my eyes to a definition that left my mouth dry. A faded pair of bootcut Sevens and a clay bead and string choker completed her look.

"Uh... want a hat?" I asked, nodding to the hats that hung on pegs that hung from the door to the porch from the kitchen. She crossed the kitchen, walking past the table and perused the few that hung, waiting for a moments notice to be used. Eventually, she picked a chocolate coloured, pinched crown fur with a rattlesnake band and feathered front concho. She put it on and tipped it rakishly to the side.

"How do I look?" she asked, winking with her visible eye. I handed her a matching pair of gloves and a black bandanna.

"Very nice." I took my own hat off the peg, a black military hat that had blood red custom rhinestones that formed an aggressive, tribal dragon pattern, the teeth sinking into the brim edge, the sinewy tail and claws coiling back the left side.

Armed with another pair of work gloves, we headed out for the corral out back. I put two fingers in my mouth and gave an ear piercing whistle, two long and one short.

"You are just full of surprises," Vivian smiled.

"My mom and I, we used to whistle at each other in Morse," I said, slightly embarrassed. Out of the nearby shed, good old Tornado, his gunmetal hide and glowing red eyes a welcome sight. I whistled again, two short and one long. As boxy and full chested as Tornado was, Lela was dainty and long legged, her metallic shell rounded and smooth. It was Vivian's turn to whistle.

"Joscelyn did this?" Her breathless voice meant she was obviously impressed. "Isn't she, like..."

"Seventeen this fall. And in Japan, fast tracking through her bachelor's right to a doctorate."

"The more I hear," she said, running her hand through Lela's silky mane, "the more I believe the Possible motto."

"C'mon, let's saddle-up."

It took a few minutes to get the saddles belted nice and tight, and to put on the harness. It wasn't really necessary, but it always felt more natural; voice command could be difficult for someone not familiar with Slim's horses.

"Why don't we take a spin around the ranch so you can get a feel of how they handle. You didn't have horses on your orchards, right?"

"Just me and my daddy's ATV."

By the time my handheld received an email saying the oven was done, Vivian was up to a trot. We stopped by the kitchen porch.

"That was great! Let's go again after supper!" Vivian gushed as I helped her down from Lela. Then she suddenly blushed brightly, my hands still on her hips. I stepped back, nonchalantly, thinking of the it-wasn't-awkward-until joke.

Vivian set the table while I served the chili pie with a pair of Coronas. "So how did you meet Slim?" I asked as Vivian took a sip from her bottle. She glanced at me for a moment before putting down her beer.

"Promise you won't laugh?"

"Uh... sure, I promise."

"Online chat." It took me a moment to close my mouth.

"_Slim_?"

"He's quite the charmer, and he types like he speaks," she shrugged. "With his cowboy wit, he pretty popular in the online dating circuit."

"I... uh... it never..." Vivian suddenly burst out laughing and it suddenly dawned on me. "Vivian!" I slapped her arm and she laughed even harder.

"Shoulda seen your face," she gasped out between outbursts of giggles.

"Alright, you got me good," I conceded with a wry grin.

"Seriously? I helped him design his lab. He audited my first project with NASA, and we fell to talking every now and then. And when NASA agreed to foot the bill for his lab when they asked for his help on the Lunar Colony project, he asked for me to consult."

"And that's why you seemed to know where everything is."

"He's made some changes since, but yeah, it's about the same as when we first laid it out. Robotics is a pretty wide field, but like in any other field, the best people, very few. Slim's a robotics superstar."

"It's funny, I could actually see him being popular in online dating." Vivian laughed in response. "It'd be good for him, though, after he lost Dorothy. Especially since now Joss is away from home. All he's got here are his handybots."

"Dorothy... his wife?"

"She died in a rodeo accident when Joss was, maybe, one? One and a half? That's how he got interested in building good ol' Tornado."

"Wow. And he raised Joss all on his own?"

"And how Joss got interested in robotics," I nodded.

"He's not from Montana, though, right?"

"Texas. You should hear him complain about the ranchers up here. Those tinhorns 're all hat an' no cattle," I drawled, imitating Slim's Texan accent, eliciting a giggle from Vivian. "How did you get from mechanics into robotics?"

"Oh, that's easy. A woman came around to the farm one day, asking for Daddy, when I was nine. Turned out she was selling a large robot that would shake the tree, and then pick up the fallen pecans and sift out the bad ones. The demonstration didn't go well; she almost broke one of the trees, but it piqued my interest. Over the next few years, I kept in touch with her via email. I helped her work out a lot of the kinks from her program and her designs, but it never really took off. The debts kept piling up and she eventually sold it. She should have retooled; the new owners converted the designs and manufacturing and started selling that floor crawling vacuum bot."

"Wow. Was she angry?"

"No, she's got the company by the balls; she sold them the equipment, but retained the patents and is raking in the royalties." Vivian shrugged. "I'm still not sure how she did that, but she travels around the world with those royalties."

"Still up for an evening ride, before the sun sets?" I asked as I cleared the plates. Vivian came over to the sink and started the water.

"Let me get those," she said as I scraped the last crumbs into the perishable recycling bin.

"Thanks." I sat at the table, quietly enjoying the electric vibe that seemed to jump and squirm between us. In a few moments, we were working our way up the trail I had run in the morning. The companionable silence between us stretched into the darkening sky, hues of russet and sapphire, amaranthine and azure, ochre and titian. By the time we ascended the top of Windy Rise, the sun was low on the horizon and the sky beginning to darken. We dismounted, Vivian eagerly walking to the spot where I had stood that same morning. She turned, her hair a flare of exquisite pearl and flaxen, her face a glorious tinge of cosmic fire. I walked slowly to her and took her hand in mine, my eyes staring into her clear blue irises, the silver flecks sparkling a brilliant beryl. After a long, pregnant moment, and a slow flush on her cheeks, nearly hidden by the rays of the setting sun, she turned and we stood, side by side, hand in hand, watching the ruddy, ruby light recede across the water carved Eastern hills.

"I meant what I said, Doc." Her voice was soft, and I could barely hear it over the constant hum of the wind turbine, but it was determined; defiant, even. "I don't regret kissing you." That feeling of undeniable convergence rushed upon me once again, and a courage that I thought I never had slowly filled the marrow of my bones, sparking a conflagration in the pit of my stomach that unfurled seismic ripples through the landscape of my heart, shifting it into an unfamiliar and forbidding terrain, wild and pristine and pure.

"I..." I paused and took a deep breath and yielded to a momentum that had begun years before. "I don't regret it either."

And there we stood, muted and blinded by our own coalescence, joined at the heart, her hand squeezing mine gently, our eyes sparkling, resplendent in our unspoken passion, afire under the setting Montanan sun.


	8. Chapter Five: Cowboy Boots

A/N:  
Kim Possible and all related characters © Disney  
Disclaimer: This is written purely for the love of writing, the enjoyment of others, and not for profit.

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**Blue Jeans**  
_Chapter Five: Cowboy Boots  
by __sweetPixiesmile_

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"Huh."

"Mmmmm?"

"It's been a while since I just watched the sunset," Vivian sighed.

"I'm sure you always have something going on."

"No... not all the time," Vivian's eyes gazed longingly at the darkening sky, the azure fading through grades of violet and indigo. "I just... I haven't watched the sunset since I left home. I was taking off for MIT for my first degree. Herschle enlisted after nine-eleven, and his unit was going to be shipped out to Afghanistan."

"He's in the service?"

"I think he's like a quartermaster or something now... the army paid for his degree in accounting. We just sat and talked, and watched the sunset. Haven't done that ever since he got married." I blinked as the rising tide of irrational jealousy balked at the mention of family.

"He's... married?"

"Yup. Happily, with three kids. I don't see him much now that he's been stationed... somewhere else, he wouldn't say. I think he wanted to put some distance between us because his wife was jealous."

"I can see why," I mused, then blushed when I realized I'd just spoken aloud. Vivian turned a grin towards me.

"Thanks Doc. It means something, hearing it from you." She turned back to the setting sun. "Anyway, he says he's happy."

"Good for him," I said, trying to keep the relief from leaking into my voice. I coughed when Vivian glanced at me with a small knowing smile. "So, uh, how was NASA?"

"Boring. Tough. Lots of things. Boring, because, honestly, it was all about load differentials, power and weight ratios. It was fun to problem solve, but it wasn't really bleeding edge tech, if you know what I mean. Tough because funding was never from start to finish. You'd get a project and have it canned halfway through because they needed you somewhere else, or worse, needed the money somewhere else. Did a lot of development work remotely; I think they wanted to keep office space to a minimum. Had to go into the lab every now and then unless we were building something. Then, most of the time, we were at the Cape."

"Where did you live?" Vivian glanced at me again, her eyes hooded.

"I had a condo apartment on South Beach."

"Oh." I left many things unsaid, given the reputation of South Beach in Miami Florida. The sun continued on its way, absorbed in its own narcissistic destiny, uncaring and unaware of our distracted gaze. I wondered if that bothered me, and I found it didn't. It might have, if I were younger; I'd certainly turned down several relationships because of it, before being married. Perhaps it was maturity, or age, or just realizing that there were things more important than just appearances. Or perhaps because I was contemplating taking my family down a path that was just as self-absorbed and narcissistic as the glowing orb before us. I knew that my passion would take us all down a painful road that might take years to heal, if it ever did. Vivian shifted uncomfortably.

"Look, Doc-" Vivian began.

"It's okay, Vivian," I said quickly. Her cheeks pinked slightly at my interruption so I hurriedly spoke my thoughts. "You're a grown woman with obvious taste." A signal in the form of an amused smile lit her lips, so I continued. "You've had a life before me, and will likely have one after me. It's going to sound stupid and cliché, but all that matters to me is that you are here, now, with me, because you want to be here, now, with me. I don't really care what you did before; I care about what you're going to do now, and in the future."

A deep, abiding, ardent flush crept up from her impressive, cleavage, spreading up her long slender neck, causing her entire face to glow. I glanced down at her soft hand, still in mine and smiled.

"I thought only red-heads could do that," I arched an eyebrow. Vivian glanced down at her hand as well and gave a bark of laughter.

"I didn't know I could even do that. And yeah, it does sound sappy and cliché,..." her lips writhed with indecision, "but coming from you... I..." She coughed, clearing her throat. "It sounded really good."

"I had time to think about these sorts of scenarios."

"Really? For how long?"

"A little over two years."

"Two-" Vivian's eyes turned towards me, alight with a bright gleam in her dilated pupils. She turned away suddenly, staring at the ground. I sat at her side, giving her room, allowing her to breath. It was obvious from her tense shoulders and the way her hand trembled slightly in mine that she was struggling with something. Then she shivered and sneezed. When she glanced at me, our eyes met, and held.

She laughed first, clear and bright and glorious in the setting sun, my own mirth following hers as the Wind began to blow harder.

The setting sun hadn't fully withdrawn its warmth, but the Windy Rise was beginning to live up to its name, the turbines ponderously turning the faces of their splines towards the warm Pacific air flowing from the west. Her hair, burning like burnished gold, shadowed her face.

"Way to break the mood, huh," she chuckled.

"Let's head back," I said, glancing at the sky. "The wind's picking up and it'll be dark by the time we hit the ranch."

I wasn't sure what I had expected from Vivian after my near confession at the top of Windy Rise, under the glorious setting sun. The winds of change were blowing through our hearts, but she seemed to take shy and our journey trailed with comfortably pregnant silence that both of us were reluctant to breach. And so, we returned to the ranch house with nary a word spoken. I myself was feeling the weight of my committed word, the path solidifying before me we reached the bright lights of the ranch as the last rays fled before the cool mystery of night. The automated illumination globes Slim had installed a few years before when he fully rewired his house added an ephemeral pallor.

Vivian's face, full and luscious under the setting sun became aloof and fey under the waxing moon. She helped take the saddles off, and with another series of sharp whistles, I sent the cybernetic horses to their stalls.

Vivian's hair, a bright flare of white gold in the day, became a silver halo. She'd taken off her hat and she gripped it with both hands as if to restrain something from escaping.

"I'm going to turn in," she said in a low voice, her eyes smoldering with an emotion that drew me to her side.

"We could have some coffee...," I said, but stopped as she shook her head.

"Rain check? It's been a long day, and I wasn't really... prepared for anything," she said, the sculpted curve of her neck darkening. I nodded, unsure myself, holding the door open for her, following her into the house as she passed. She started up the stairs, and with butterflies swirling in my stomach, I rushed to the bottom of the stairs, but didn't dare to pursue her up the few steps.

"Vivian," I said and she turned at the serious tone of my voice to face me in the bright, harsh light of the family room, the eerie beauty suddenly gone and replaced, once again, by the Vivian I knew. "I... uh, there's going to be Harvest Dance... at the old Rodeo Field tomorrow night... I was wondering if you'd like to go." A tired smile flitted across her face.

"Sure Doc, if nothing happens during the day, I'd love to." She turned to go up, but stopped. She paused for a moment, then came bounding down the few steps. Her arms went around my neck and before I knew it, her lips pressed hard against mine, but only for the briefest of moments, with a breath of "thanks, Doc," before she left me reeling with desire and disappeared up the steps almost just as quickly.

I was frozen, caught between pleasure and shock at Vivian's ardour. I wasn't sure what she intended or what she desired at this point, but I promised myself that I would make the most of it.

With her mark still burning on my lips, even after performing the ablations of my sleep routine, I had to go through a few mental exercises before I was enfolded in a blissful sleep.

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Even before the bright morning sun rose, I was once again on the backtrails of the Ranch, this time heading in a direction deeper into the hills of the grey and indistinct pre-dawn. The air was dryer than before and smelled moire crisp, less dense. It felt like a turning in the season, something that seemed to mirror my own. Armed with a set of radio frequency identification chips, I ran, grinning into the cool morning air, my feet fleet and light over the soft earth. I took a deep cut switchback up a hill running past scrub brush, hardy survivors of the unforgiving Permian, and entered a tiny, single file trail that ran between nearly sheer limestone walls. The pale morning sky was a sliver of dull grey through the close rock faces.

After a quarter mile, the walls parted, revealing a small, private green paradise. On the far end from the trail, the walls closed once again. A neat little cottage nestled against them. I ran up to the quaint and comfortable little house, the automated sentries reading my key chain of RFIDs and the outdoor lights flickered to life. To the left of the cottage and set a little ways before it was a dark fibreglass hot tub with dark stained redwood siding.

It had been years since I'd come to this little hideaway. Slim's proud, sad look was a precious thing that he had shared with the Middleton Possibles when Kim had helped Joss with her obsession over... well, Kim. I checked the supplies, toiletries, the sump tank and pump, the hot tub pipes and drainage. The fuse box seemed newly installed, which raised an eyebrow, but the electricals seemed fine, and the linens fresh and laundered. I supposed that Slim's handybots would have cared for the little place, since it had been a favourite place of Joscelyn's before she'd left. The tub was covered and clean, and a smile lit on my face as elements of my plan began to fall into place.

I practically flew back to the ranch, humming a long forgotten tune, my breath rasping out my glee. In the clear sandy front of the ranch house, I ran through the Tai Chi that Kim had taught me all those years ago. I breathed like the earth, moved like water, my hands steady and my stance strong, reflecting the newness of my heart, the reemergence of it. Very few times before was I able to focus like that. The buoyant feeling lasted through my shower, and I was hard pressed to contain the grin that threatened to stay on my face. I noted Vivian's open door when I'd finally gone downstairs. I found her looking through the cabinets and smiled as Slim's voice directed her around the kitchen from the fridge. She was wearing yesterday's shorts and a tight polo shirt that was unbuttoned. She looked up as I thumped down the final few steps to keep from startling her, and gave me a beatific smile.

"Mornin' Doc," she said, her Georgian accent lilting her words. "I thought I'd whip up some breakfast. It's so cool that Slim left a video guide to his kitchen! And it's voice interactive!"

"He even has it for cooking," I said as she measured some ground coffee beans into a French Press, sliding up beside her and reach around to open a cabinet to remove two mugs. She smelled faintly of lilacs and sandalwood, my body flushing from just being close to her. "Everything here's voice activated, did the video mention that?" I continued, trying to ignore the soft blush that also lit Vivian's cheeks. She nodded.

"Omelette?" I asked as she filled the press from a filtered hot water tap. "We've got enough for a Western, or I can just make something simple?"

"Anything's fine. I don't normally eat breakfast so early, I usually eat when I get into the office."

"Butter? Chives?"

"Sure." I pulled out a non-stick pan. It had a large handle with a red button. Vivian sat at a barstool, lounging on the counter. "No meat?" she asked as I cut some stalks of chives from an herbal garden Slim had growing on the window sill. I placed them on the chopping board.

"Alexa, chopping board, dice chives." A blade came out on a tentacled arm; another one held down the chives and the machine cut the stalks.

"Nifty!" Vivian grinned, watching the chopping board, her eyes alight.

"Scientists," I teased, playfully rolling my eyes.

I pulled out the eggs and placed them before the tabletop blender.

"Alexa, blender, eggs." Another set of tentacled hands emerged from behind the blender and seized the eggs.

"Alexa?" Vivian wondered, wide-eyed as the machine cracked the eggs into the mixing bowl.

"I'm not sure, really," I shrugged. "I think Joss might very well have been an Alexa; it was her grandmother on her mother's side's name, but I think Slim prevailed."

Thirty minutes, a nice fragrant omelette, a fresh baked muffin and a mug of great coffee later, I put the dishes in the dishwasher.

"So,..." Vivian drawled, holding the mouth of her mug by the tips of her fingers, "The feed seems to be green across the board..."

"You're wondering what's up for today?" I smiled back at her.

"Well, and the Hoedown..."

"Harvest Dance."

"Alright, Harvest Dance."

"You won't need a hat or chaps or anything... I'll bet I could find you a shirt... Do you have a pair of cowboy boots here?"

"I have plenty of boots... but no, not here. I have a pair of boot-cut jeans, but a denim skirt would be nice," she mused aloud. "Stockings, garters..."

"Then it's settled."

"Shopping?" Vivian's eye lit up as she asked.

"Shopping," I agreed. "One of Slim's neighbours' family runs a local dude store, but they have a pretty good selection for dudettes."

"When do they open?"

"Ranch hand hours. They should be open now." A grin split her face.

"Gimme five minutes," she said as she stood up and rushed up the stairs.

I shook my head in amusement as I cleared the table. I gulped down the rest of my own morning brew as Vivian came clattering down the stairs. I turned and nearly choked. She had her hair up in a high bun, but was dressed in a tight sapphire blue collared blouse with buttoned up sleeves. She was wearing a pattern stitched big spur ultra lowrider Citizens and the large wide belt from yesterday. She crossed quickly to the kitchen patio door and slipped on the hat she wore yesterday. She was healing a set of Labouton heels with red soles that made the whole effect so much more alluring.

"C'mon Doc, put your tongue back in your mouth and let's go shopping!"

Who was I to argue?

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"What do you think?" Vivian said.

"I can't tell. Everything looks fantastic on you. It's like everything is just cut to fit you, I'm so jealous!" It was insanely obvious, yet it was true. We'd gone for several hours, with Vivian trying on everything from jeans to dresses to skirts. Blouses, work shirts, bodices. Lingerie would have to wait, but I already had a place in mind for her.

"You're just saying I look like any girl on the street," she shot back.

"No, I'm serious. You put them on, and you look like you just stepped out of a magazine. I have to get practically everything tailored. Knee lengths, shirt widths, curve and cut. Too many tall places also expect you to be wide, and I'm so skinny."

"You look terrific! I don't think there's anything wrong with the way you look." She turned again, this time in a long traditional hoedown denim skirt. When she twirled, it flared out and showed off her fantastically long legs. "Hmmm. This just doesn't feel like me."

"Sorry Vivian, but you may need to hurry. I want to take you to a boutique for your garters and hose, but they close in an hour."

"Alright. Go to the car, I've decided, but I want to surprise you. Go on! I know what I want," she said with a smile, pulling me out of the leather chair, putting my own purchases in my hands and shooing me out of the store. As the doors closed, I could hear her speaking to the sales associate who was serving us. Her voice was cut off as she said, "Okay, here's what I want..."

I put the bags in the rear of the cab.

We'd spent a good portion of the morning and afternoon at the place, chatting with Emily and Chelsea, the two sisters who ran the store, as well as their daughters, who worked there over the summer. There was plenty of traffic, but almost everyone would stop to appreciate Vivian modelling our enthusiastic frenzy. In about five minutes, she came out with several bags. She stowed them along side my own bags in the back seat cab, before climbing into the three-fifty.

"Alright, now for the most important part!" she winked as we pulled out onto the road.

"Why's that, Miss Porter? Were you hoping to get lucky tonight?"

"Maybe," she laughed, "if the right one comes along... Why, do you know anyone?"

"I just might," I played along.

"Is it someone who's tall, skinny and really good with their hands?"

"No."

"No?"

"Someone who can make dreams come true."

"Wow, was that ever a line," she giggled. "Oh, man! I haven't gone shopping like that in ages!" She leaned back into her seat, arching and stretching with a moaning sigh.

"You keep doing that and we'll get pulled over by the local troopers," I teased.

"You just keep your eyes on the road and there won't be any trouble," she shot back. "So where is this place, and why do they close at two thirty in the afternoon?"

"It's a small shop run by an elderly Jewish couple. Mischa and Hanna have run this place for years, and everything is made to order. Hanna's the best I've seen with a stitching machine anywhere, and Mischa's advice is always impeccable."

"Wait, the husband does the measuring?"

"He's the designer. He sometimes consults for Victoria's." I leaned forward. "It's just over there," I said, pointing.

"Huh. Well, alright," she said dubiously as we pulled into the driveway of a tiny thatch-roofed two story house.

I lead her up the three weathered wooden steps and rang the doorbell.

"Just a moment, please!" called out a name. "I don't recall having an appointment today..." the door opened to reveal a short, stoop shouldered man. Thick glasses nestled atop a large hooked nose. He was dressed in a loose collared shirt and dark pants held up by dark suspenders. He stopped speaking as he saw me.

"_Bubile_? Ah! It is so good to see you!" He opened his arms and I accepted his embrace. He released me and turned back into the house. "Hanna, Hanna! It is Doctor Possible!"

"It's good to see you too, Mischa. This is my friend, Doctor Vivian Porter."

"Nice to meet you," Vivian stuck out her hand. Mischa looked at her and did a double take. He took her hand gently.

"And you have such a shiksa as a friend? If I were not married, I should be jealous!" He led Vivian into the house. "Come! Come in."

"I've known Mischa and Hannah since I was in college," I began to explain to Vivian. We entered the small house, removing our boots in the small walk-in, the faded hardwood floor in need of staining and lacquer.

"We were running a small tailor shop at the time," Mischa added.

"One day, I was in there to hem some pants when I overheard them talking about their sewing machine."

"A new one, too."

"I fixed their machine. Later, I was looking for a place to stay..."

"Our boy Leo, had moved out to live with his new wife, so we had a room to let."

"And that's how I got to know Hannah and Mischa."

As small as it seemed on the outside, the inside felt enormous. Just inside the front landing, the warm and inviting wallpapered sitting room was clear of everything but a few things. A small cushioned stool, a stuffed mannequin and a small single legged wooden side table. The far wall was covered with racks filled with bolts of lace, cloth, and silk. Just before another door set into the middle of the wall opposite the front was a sewing machine and stand, with a side table for cutting. Bolted to the wall was a mini drawer cabinet, where each transparent plastic box held spools of thread.

Out from the door, a wire thin, grey-haired, smiling woman emerged from a kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishcloth.

"Ah _bubile_!" Hannah embraced me warmly. "It has been too long. You never call, you don't write..."

"Neither do you, after you moved here, Hannah," i reminded her with and amused smile. She sniffed and turned to Vivian.

"And who is this _sheynie_ you have brought us? A model you must be... yet I see oil on your hands."

"This is Vivian. Vivian, Hannah."

"Pleased to meet you," Vivian demurred. Hannah laughed.

"She is a devil, isn't she," the woman teased as she turned to me. "And how are Kim and the twins?"

"Kim's home for the summer, although she's spending a lot of time on her missions."

"That girl needs to stay still. A husband, that should help."

"I'll let Kim know," I replied as Vivian gave a bark of laughter.

"You try telling that girl anything, you know she will do her own thing, always," Mischa shrugged. "Better she find her own way." Hanna sniffed loudly at the thought.

"Vivian and I are going to the Harvest Dance tonight, and Vivian didn't bring anything, so I thought I'd bring her here to see you."

"Good, good," Mischa said as he exchanged a look with Hannah. "Please, Doctor, go into the kitchen with Hannah for the tea. I will speak with Miss Porter."

"Please, I also have muffins in the oven," Hannah took my arm and pulled me through the doorway. I glanced back to give Vivian an encouraging smile, who was looking slightly alarmed.

"Please, sit," Hannah gestured to the small breakfast nook table and chairs. She pulled a tin, a teapot and a kettle out of a cupboard. She willed the kettle with water and placed it on an old coil stove before sitting across from me, giving me a shrewd stare.

"So how is Doctor Possible?"

"Good. Busy."

"Too busy to visit Montana?"

"Apparently."

"That is not good. A relationship is a difficult thing, if not handled properly. It is like a dance; you both must be moving in unison for there to be beauty."

"Hannah...", I thought to temporize, but she put up a hand and shook her head.

"Forgive me, it is just that we have known each other for so long, I thought to give you this advice."

"I appreciate the concern, Hannah. The relationship problems of the Doctors Possible have been years in the making. And I think it's my fault; but I wouldn't trade those years for anything, not with Kim and Jim and Tim. But I'm starting to wonder if I married for love."

"Ah! Love. Love is a fleeting thing," she said as she rose, pouring the steaming hot water into the teapot, "isn't it? A relationship takes work." She brought tray to the table.

"But that's just it, Hannah," I sighed as she sat across from me. "I'm just not sure how much of a relationship there is left to salvage. You know this, since the last time I visited you and Mischa."

"Yes, and you ordered Mischa's French laced corset and bustier with demi-hose and garters in white. And how did that work out?"

"That's just it, it _didn't_! I tried for half a year to find some 'us' time together, and things kept getting in the way. Projects, deadlines, emergencies, budget crunches...right now, Mischa's fantastic work-"

"Thank you."

"-is sitting in my luggage because I kept hoping that maybe _something _might happen, that the mood might be right some night that it could be a nice present..." I leaned over the table as Hannah poured the tea, rubbing my temples. "The last time we had a vacation together was when we visited Nana in Florida, and that was _years_ ago. Relationships _are_ work. But it's _impossible _if it's just one person trying to keep it together."

"Hearing this, it makes me very sad," she murmured, placing a mug gently before me. "It is never happy when there is an ending."

"Kim reminds me of myself so long ago. I was a real go-getter, remember?"

"I still recall the days you lived on three hours of sleep a day because you were taking three majors," she chuckled and we laughed together.

"I know my career is as good as it's going to get and my home life is decent. I've accomplished everything I set out to do. I should be happy. I should be content. But I'm not!" We sat in silence for several moments, sipping tea. Until Hannah had asked, I never realized how bitter, how trapped I had felt and I was shocked at the pervasive depth of those feelings. Hannah stirred her tea for a moment.

"And this Doctor Porter," she pause meaningfully, glancing up with her beady, wizened eyes. "She is, shall I say... a happy coincidence?"

"We met over two years ago. I'll admit, I felt an immediate attachment. She's actually been gone from Middleton for the last two years, but when she returned, we really hit it off. I can't explain it. I'm drawn to her, I feel a connection with her."

"A fling is always exciting. She is not a _yente_?"

"She may have been, but I don't get that feeling from her," I retorted, flushing with embarrassment. "It's not just that, the thing I feel for her is not the same as I feel for my family at all. It's not just something fiery or hungry. It's... it's like... as desire for her presence... a place of peace... I don't know..." Hannah smiled sadly.

"Ah, bubbala... The end of something is not always the beginning of another," she said, her eyes sparkling with a repressed kindness. "Just as the beginning of something does not end another. We are, always, changing." She patted my hand and rose to put our empty teacups in the sink. The bead curtain parted and Mischa and Vivian swept into the room. Vivian's cheeks held a high blush, but she smiled unstintingly at me.

"Uh... Doc? You can head home. Mischa says that because this is a rush job, they can get everything ready for the Dance... but I need to be here for the last minute fittings." Vivian's eyes drifted slightly to the left as I arched an eyebrow in surprise, glancing at the elderly lingerie maker. Vivian coughed. "He says, he can take me to the Dance..."

"If that's what you want," I demurred.

"I'll just grab my things from the car," she said, holding out a hand. "Could I have the keys?"

"Sure." I put the jingling metal in her hands and turned my arched eyebrow on Mischa and Hannah, who were whispering urgently to one another. "Alright, Mischa, what's got you and Hannah thick as thieves, here?"

"Doctor Porter and I discussed some designs," Mischa said, holding up his hands placatingly. I followed his gaze to my clenched hand. I forced myself to relax a sudden jealous tension that had filled me without my notice. "And all true, what she said to you. Only because it is you that I allow a one week job to be completed in four hours."

"Mischa..." I stopped and took a deep breath. "Thank you."

"We have known you for almost twenty years now. Goy or not, you are more than _mishpocheh_, family. And you are a fine _mentsch_."

"Mischa," I smiled, not knowing how to reply.

"And do not think that we have forgotten what you did for our little _mommellah_. Rachel has nothing but the highest regard for you. Issac was a good match for her," Hannah said, laying a hand on my arm.

"That was so long ago," I sighed, thinking of Issac and Rachel.

"Well, that's all my stuff!" Vivian said as she flounced in, her hands full of her previous purchases. She stopped, her eyes wide at the intimate scene, but Mischa and Hannah were already bustling away, chatting amicably in low murmurs.

"I guess I'll be on my way," I said, "Thank you again, Mischa, Hannah."

"You do not visit often enough," Hannah grumbled, but she embraced me fiercely even as Mischa stood behind her, nodding.

"We will get Doctor Porter to the dance on time, have no fear."

At the door, I paused.

"They're really nice," Vivian glanced back at the kitchen. "You've got to tell me about them, later."

"Sure. See you at the dance?"

"I'll be there," she smiled.

The drive home was one of the loneliest moments of my life.

Sometimes it takes someone to jostle things out of you that you've buried deep, deep inside yourself, just so you could get through the day. Things that make you bleed inside, heartfelt hurts that you decide to discard for the good of the status quo.

The vehemence that Hannah unleashed today... was that the reason I was drawn to Vivian? I wasn't even sure why I felt to attached to her, why I yearned for her presence, why I desired her happiness. Certainly, I never would have even glanced twice at someone with a colourful past; it just wasn't done. And I missed her cheery chatter on the drive back. I turned on the radio, flipping through the stations, but hearing nothing that would distract me sufficiently. I left it on the local classical station; it was playing the deep sonorous tones of a cello concerto that vibrated the truck nicely.

At home, I had a few more items to prepare for the night. Vivian being away would make it easier to accomplish.

- KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP - - KP -

The Dance was held in the old Co-Op rodeo field, one that had fallen into some disuse and was typically filled with monster trucks and dirt bikes, red necks and jailbait. But tonight, the tall wooden poles were topped with flashing spotlights, sparkling berry lights strung across the four acre field. A rented four pinnacle tent from the local three ring circus that toured the north west stood white and high in the midst or swirls of colourful stalls and a cheerful, constantly moving crowd. Young men and women with bright orange roadwork vests and cone flashlights directed the flow of cars. The local farmers association chapter lined the walk with their combines, their tall, overhead lights illuminating the walk into the dance tent.

I parked Slim's three fifty and wiped my hands on my jeans, a pair of old boot cut Levi's. I'd opted for full ranch hand regalia: dark brown chaps over the blue denim, topped with a tight deep brown cotton soft collared shirt. A pair of dark brown work gloves hung from the wide black leather belt, the buckle, a chrome mustang at full gallop. A bright red bandanna with a paisley and tribal tattoo motif, a bull rope leather strap coiled loosely to my left hip with a couple of sleigh bells on the end and bright red leather cowboy boots completed the look. I stood self-consciously by a large green John Deere combine and sighed, looking at the bright, happy faces walking by, their boots crunching loudly on the gravel spread on top of the dirt, watching one particularly loud gaggle of young things walking by. I was beginning to feel very very very old.

"Hi, Doc." I froze at the sound of that high, singsong voice, my mouth turning dry, my pulse pounding a rapid staccato. I turned and stopped, staring at a dream.

Vivian stood on the gravel, her hair a wheat gold waterfall down one side. Underneath a short, white denim jacket, which had stitched scroll work along the sleeves, she wore a tight fitting plum leather brassier that stopped just above the adorable dimple of her belly button. She had her very very tight Paige Canyons and wore her new hide hat. She cocked her hip and tipped her hat rakishly to one side.

"You look... fabulous! Wow! I..." I stopped, flushing under her sudden grin.

"Thanks." She grabbed on to my arm as some of the people around us stopped to stare. "You too. _Love_ the look, it makes you look _dangerous_. C'mon! Have you been waiting long?" Her cheeks were flushed with pleasure, and she glowed under the strung berry lights. I let her pull me into the tent, trailing in the wake of double takes and whispers. But I just didn't care. She led me through the throng and into the tent. We paused momentarily at the entrance as I handed over our tickets. The big burly man simply grinned knowingly and gestured us in with a flourish.

The inside was more brightly lit than I expected, even for a large circus tent. A food buffet and bar was at one end, three mechanical bulls were at the other. Rounded tables and chairs nestled against the long sides of the tent, and in the middle was the dance floor and band. The caller was a woman with wild brown hair, a knitted hat and coveralls over a work shirt, but the crowd square dancing was having a good time.

"Promenade go six and nine, get on home, yer doin' fine!"

Vivian's bright eyes was all I needed for the night.

"Ever dance with a caller before?" I yelled, leaning close to make sure I was heard. She turned and I dipped my head as her lips nearly touched my ear.

"No! I've never been to a hoedown before! It's kinda silly and exciting at the same time!"

"C'mon. Let's see if it's a free dance next." We made our way over to the sound tech who was sitting with his fingers fiddling with the sliders.

"Excuse me," I said touching his shoulder. He started and quickly took off his headset, then took a double take at the sight of us. "Is there going to be a free dance soon?"

"Uh... next song," he said, staring at Vivian, who was doing her best to look cute and sexy. Needless to say, it wasn't that much of a stretch, but for her to really turn it on was like a divine revelation. "She's gonna cover some MacIntyre; some ballads and some waltzes."

"Alright, thanks."

I steered Vivian toward the edge of the floor.

"Ladies to their seats and gents all foller, thank the fiddler and kiss the caller!" the woman called out and the band finished with a flourish. She thanked the crowd of dancers who cheered, whistled and clapped, bowing left and right. "Now that we're warmed up nice and tight, let's have a few for the lovers."

I took Vivian's hand in mine and put my arm on her very slim waist. And as we stepped to the music, I can honestly say that I can't even really recall what we were dancing to. All I knew, in that whirling world of colour and sound, everything paled in comparison to the vision that spun before me Her long golden hair flew out in long tresses as she twirled, her eyes alight in the soft darkness. Around the floor we went swirling along with the rest of the dancers, laughing and teasing each other with glances and slight caresses. We ignored the stares as best we could and focused on each other.

After the Tennessee Waltz, I guided Vivian to the side.

"Let's get a bite to eat!" Her grin was her only reply.

The had the large grill going, wood burning through the opened end of the tent. Great big metal racks were propped up and the chefs had enormous tongs in their hands. Burgers, hot dogs, chicken drumsticks and wings, pork and beef ribs were all on the fire at the food end, in the open air.

"_That_... is a lot of meat!"

"Protein's good for you."

Abode the serving table was a large sign with the food and beverage sponsor. We filled our plates and found a table. Vivian's eyes were riveted to the mechanical bulls.

"You want to try?" I asked her.

"It looks like a lot of fun! Painful, though."

One particular fellow in the middle bull was garnering a crowd who whistled and shouted encouragement as the large LED stopwatch counted the seconds he was on.

"It's not that bad. See the fellow just to the right of the ride with the funny looking panel? There's a killswitch there. He punches that, and the bull just slows down and stops. Only the serious riders will bring a bull rope." At forty-eight seconds, the rider fell off.

"Bull rope?"

"You take this," I turned and cocked my hip, flushing slightly as her eyes lingered as the bells jingled, "and you wind it around the bull and your hand. As long as you can grip the rope's handle, and stay in the saddle, you can keep going."

"What's that number there?" she pointed at the top of the LED numbers. "It says four thirty-eight."

"The all time record."

"So, someone actually stayed on a bull for over four and a half minutes? Wow."

"Not that particular bull, but yes. My hand was pretty sore after that."

"What? You're not telling me..." her eyes went wide and round as she watched the fake horns of the black bull dip and twirl. "Really?"

"I don't normally ride," I said, embarrassed. "I was a bit drunk, and some jerk was making fun of a friend of mine... so... I challenged him to a ride off."

"_No_! _Way_!"

"I can't even remember what he'd said or why I was so angry. He was a pretty big fellow, and before, he held the previous record time of two minutes, fifteen seconds. He beat it and went on for almost three minutes. He was pretty cocky, swaggering and all bravado, until I got on." I shrugged. "Afterwards he was shouting just as loud as the others. I lost my grip because my hand cramped from holding on for so long." I glanced over as another man was thrown from the ride in less than fifteen seconds.

"That's gotta be some sort of record!"

"Guinness wouldn't except it, even though the committee submitted it. Not a standard bronco, no trained technician, that sort of stuff. I was an unknown and used a fake name. It was years ago. And I wasn't really keen on having my resume include "longest mechanical bull rider".

"Okay, now I have to see you do this!"

"C'mon Viv... no. I'll be all yucky and sweaty..." I paused seeing Vivian's glazed look. "I don't think you'd want to dance with someone who was all dirty..."

"C'mon Doc!" I sighed. "How many have you had?"

"What, beers? Three... I think."

"Then you should do fine!"

"I don't think I can even get close to that time anymore."

"If I do it, you do it."

"Viv..."

"Pleeeeeease... c'mon Doc...?" She looked so adorable, how could I say no? I sighed again, even more heavily.

"You-" I stopped and looked her right in those adorable sky-blue eyes. "You are a force of nature, you know that?"

"I'm a force of something, _that_ I know," she grinned mischievously.

"Why do I think that I'm gonna regret this..." I tucked my hair under my hat, pulling it down so that the only thing people could see were the gleam of my eyes in the bright spotlight with the back drop of the darkened tent. I stood up and walked, all long legged and swaggering, expecting Vivian to follow. I made my way past the dance floor and wove my way to a table where young strapping studs were signing themselves up. Vivian grabbed my arm as we waited our turn in line and was practically hopping excitedly. I studied the list of rules posted next to the line. A few of the young hands saw us and grinned, nudging each other good naturedly with sardonic nods, but a few older hands simply looked and whispered to themselves.

There was an inflatable ring, much like a jumping castle. There was a desert sand motif with cacti on the shoulder high ridge. In the middle was a huge, ridge backed black bull with red glowing eyes and a mean look. Oddly, it reminded me of the black bull form a Looney Toon cartoon. Smoke blew out of the nostrils as the thing whirled and bucked, sending another wiry farmhand into the raised buffer of the ring. An operator sat near the ring with a colourful panel.

"Sorry, but the Black Bull's for professionals," a tall beefy, tanned man dismissed us. He was sandy haired and good looking, in that rugged farmhand sort of way, but young enough for the bravado. He tipped his hat at us. "But if your looking for a good time, me an my buddies are always willing to oblige." His eyes were on Vivian, and a serious, dark feeling began bubbling inside of me.

"The rules don't say anything like that," I nodded at the placard. He didn't even glance at it.

"All the girls and tinhorns are riding the bronco over there," he said, pointing to the side, where we could hear the squeals. The registrant was finished at the table and walked away. I stepped around the wrangler, and stepped up to the table.

"I'd like to ride the black." The young thing at the table giggled. She was a bottle blond with too much skin and glitter, but she had cute freckles and an attractive upturned nose. Her hair was in a pair of pigtails, and her shirt was tied up, baring a smooth belly and charcoal lowrider skinnies.

"You mean Bessie? The table's over there."

"No, I mean that big black thing behind you, honey."

"Uh... but... I don't..." her nose crinkled in confusion.

"Look, my friend wants me to ride the bull, and I'd like to do that," I nodded to Vivian.

"But, I don't know... most are going with Bessie." The farm hand that had stopped us interjected.

"Bad Bart's a special order, a professional job. It's fully automatic, with a program that mimics all the hardest, roughest rides known to Rodeo America programmed in," he said. I could tell he was serious and wasn't trying to be rude... but the way he kept glancing at Vivian began to raise a slumbering beast inside of me.

"The rules don't say I can't ride. What's the problem?"

"Just don't want anyone to get hurt and sue us, is all. You have a good time and we get the registration fee. Everyone's happy."

"Can I help you?" A greying, stout moustached man in a string tie, a stetson and a leather jacket walked up.

"I'd like to ride the black."

"Do you have a PRCA card?"

"No... what is that?"

"Sorry, I'd like to register you but the black isn't for amateurs, if you pardon me saying. We've only been allowing members of the Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association to ride."

"I've ridden before. On Slim Possible's ranch."

"Black's a custom job. It's dangerous for a greenhorn to ride, especially a tinhorn. That thing spins like a Texas dustdevil an' kicks like a howitzer... wait... you've ridden Slim's Tornado, before?"

"I've ridden it before."

"What's your last name, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Last time I was here, I went by Kilovisch." The man opened his mouth, then closed it, peering at me intently.

"You're Kilovisch? The Killswitch?"

"What? You can't be serious!" The wrangler looked my up and down. "This skinny-"

"Don't know but the wiry ones are the best at the bull. Alright, Marybelle. Saddle'er up. We're gonna get a show. And put on The Program."

"If you're sure, daddy?"

"Jus' do it." The man's eyes were gleaming.

"I don't believe this!" The nameless farmhand threw up his hands in disbelief.

"Registration's $150. Identification and waiver required. You get best time, you get half the pot. You beat four thirty-eight and the whole pots yours."

"What's the pot at right now?" Vivian asked, curiously.

"We've had a pretty good turn out. Some of the younger PRCA's have been riding a couple of times, trying to get a name in the local area, and a couple of big name sponsors, so about ten thousand. Rick Money's got top spot, right now, at two fifteen."

The farm hand stalked back to his buddies in disgust, dusting his hands on his chaps.

"You have a rope?" The girl asked, her eyes following the the hand as he left.

"Yes," I replied turning slightly to show the coiled rope. She lifted an eyebrow; I couldn't tell if it was in surprise or derision.

"We're letting the PRCA riders rope on as well. The operator has a safety switch, for safety," the girl rattled on as I read and signed the waiver. I gave my things to Vivian to take care of. A crowd was starting to gather. I could hear the name Kilovisch. "They'll start you off slow at level one, but this bull goes all the way to thirteen, not nine, like the older bulls. Every fifteen seconds, the air horn will go off to let you know that it's bumping to the next level of difficulty." In the background we could hear the airhorn sound, followed by a sharp cry as the rider was thrown. Marybelle looked back. "A buck and a half. Not bad. Now, you'll be on The Program. That's the-"

"Ten most difficult rides preprogrammed in."

"Yup. So the operator isn't responsible for the spins and bucks. Most don't make it past level nine."

"I hope to do better," I said as I pulled on my gloves. "Good thing I wore chaps," I muttered to myself.

"We'll call you. Sit over there. There's a few fellas on before you." I nodded as walked over to the chairs lined up to the side. The other cowboys were stretching and limbering up. They stayed away from me, I supposed they were trying to get their head in the game. I was obviously not dressed to ride. Vivian, with nothing to do sidled up as one of the waiting riders went and strapped in.

"This is going to be so great!"

"I just hope I don't break anything. I'm not as young as I used to be."

"You'll be fine. And the pot's in the bag!"

"I don't know how you talked me into this."

"I told you, I'm a force to be reckoned with."

"You sure are. I mean, I could probably get out of this... but..." I blushed slightly. "I kinda want to show off in front of you too." It was strange, feeling so comfortable with someone to be able to speak secret hidden thoughts, as if dropping small precious jewels of yourself, with nothing but the confidence of trust that they would be gleaned from the ever changing social morass, and cherished as you felt they should be. Vivian's grin softened and a slight blush touched her cheeks.

"How did you ever get so good at riding?"

"I suppose I'm just a natural. My mother used to ride bronco in her teen years; junior female champion way back. That was before my grandfather kicked her out for joining the Forces.

"She got disowned for joining the forces?" Behind her the next rider depated to rope up.

"It broke her heart, but she said she never regretted it. She never blamed him for it; Mother always said it was because of the things Grandfather had seen in World War Two. He was a staunch pacifist. And he felt she should be more girlish, more feminine. Grandfather Andre died about ten years back."

"Did they ever reconcile? Did she meet her family?"

"My uncles made a name for themselves riding on the circuit, and she was able to meet with them every now and then."

"So... you like riding?"

"I certainly don't ride as much as I could, but it _is_ a lot of fun. When the buzzer sounds, everything just... disappears. I focus so hard that all I'm doing is feeling the ride and just going with it. It's not just about holding on. You have to keep your free hand up, and your upper body erect. You can even spur the bull in the shoulder for extra points."

"Spur the bull?"

"Kick him in the shoulders with your boots."

"That's so crazy," her laughter brought a smile to my lips.

"Only for rodeo riding; you get judged for points. Spurring the bull is something you do for extra points."

"Still." The crowd cheered as the next fellow went up, leaving me as next. I could see the technician helping with wrapping the bull rope under the chassis of the contraption.

I stood and began stretching exercises as Vivian watched, sitting in the chair I had vacated, her shining eyes on me. I tried not to think about her watching me. Believe me, it was hard. For her part, she stayed silent. After seeing the antics of the other riders, one praying and crossing his chest, another pacing and swinging his arms. Loosen the back, the shoulders, the arms. Then the legs, the calves.

"You Killswitch?" The technician asked as he walked up. He was a tiny, skinny, leather-faced Mexican, a pock-marked and but he had a great unabashed and toothy smile.

"Kilovisch."

"Bring your rope." I took a deep breath and stepped over to the inflated safety ring. The red LED lights in its angry eyes shone with a dull red malevolence. The head was slightly comical, with wide, downturned and blunted horns. The saddle was a well worn brown but was securely bolted on from below. I swung easily up in a single smooth motion, and settled myself. My hands were slightly clammy from anxiety. The technician helped rebelt the stirrups, adjusting them for my long legs. I undid the wrapping I had on the sleigh bells and their ringing chime sounded as the technician wound the rope under the bull.

"Good weave. Brazillian?" as he pulled the rope tight and handed me the loose end. I wiped my left hand on my chaps, slipped on the glove.

"Half skip, half full," I replied, adding, "offset handle." He stood on tiptoe, looking at the raised handle portion and nodded. I grasped the hard braided strip.

"Good luck, Killswitch," he grinned suddenly. I wrapped the rest of the rope around my anchored hand. I made sure my hat was on securely, my stomach fluttering. Would I be instantly embarrassed? I hadn't ridden much of anything since that tipsy night, where free flowing lightning had bolstered my typically calm demeanour. I glanced to the side and saw Vivian's glowing face. Her beatific smile was a beacon that settled the trembling nervousness deep inside me.

I tipped my hat to her and she waved back enthusiastically with a wide grin.

I raised my hand and straightened my stance, taking a breath. I nodded, jerking my chin up and down.

The bull began to rock, slowly, revolving clockwise.


End file.
